


laughter lines

by rebelvigilante



Category: American Idiot - Green Day (Album), American Idiot - Green Day/Armstrong
Genre: (kinda), ADHD, Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Anxiety, Cheating, Cigarettes, Depression, Drugs, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marijuana, PTSD, Past Child Abuse, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Pre-Canon, Rehabilitation, Retelling, Slow Burn, Smoking, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, War, also jimmy is a real person in this one!, also johnny is trans i forgot to say that, unrequited love but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 32,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29492589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelvigilante/pseuds/rebelvigilante
Summary: Will somehow always knew that Johnny would end up leaving. The difference was that he didn’t know when, how, or that it meant he’d be left in Jingletown alone. Another thing he didn’t account for was just how fucked up Johnny would be when he came back.
Relationships: Extraordinary Girl/Tunny, Heather/Will (American Idiot), Johnny/Whatsername, Johnny/Will (American Idiot), St. Jimmy/Johnny
Kudos: 11





	1. O N E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, despite having known him forever, Will felt like Johnny was an enigma.

They’d bummed yet another cigarette from the homeless man that sat outside the school parking lot. At this point, it was less ‘bumming’ and more of an even trade, considering that Johnny always handed over whatever his mom had packed him for lunch each day in exchange. He didn’t need a turkey sandwich when he had a can of Monster Energy and a cigarette, after all. He didn’t even like turkey anyway. 

“You really ought to save _ something _ for yourself,” Will said, lighting the cigarette as it hung between Johnny’s lips. “Monster on an empty stomach isn’t great.” As if Monster at all was great. 

“I had breakfast,” Johnny rolled his eyes, taking a drag and passing the thin white stick over to his friend as the smoke floated into the air. “Where’s Tun? He was here earlier.”

“He’s still here. He’s trying to get invited to Sadie’s, said he’s eating lunch with the cheerleaders today.”

They walked through the parking lot, back up towards the old, rundown building of Jingletown High School - the only high school in the whole area. Sometimes it felt like they should be lucky that their area even had its own school, considering how little things they had. A 7-Eleven, a Walgreens, a few small stores here and there, a shady park with a haunted-looking playground, and a McDonalds that was far out enough that it just  _ barely _ could be considered a part of Jingletown. When they were younger, Johnny would joke about how the town should be called Ghosttown instead of Jingletown, because it was accurate and not as stupid of a name. Even now, Will would think back on that and wonder how in the hell their town got its name. Johnny kicked a pebble along the broken concrete, pulling Will’s attention back to the present reality.

Johnny spoke up again, after the cigarette was passed in his direction. “I fuckin’ hate it here,” he sighed out, smoke following his words. He paused long enough to watch the smoke until it had practically disappeared. “And I hate that Tunny’s been fuckin’ saving face around girls. Around the fuckin’  _ cheerleaders. _ Of all girls, why them?”

Considering that Will shared nearly the same thoughts, he didn’t have a great answer. He offered a shrug, “I dunno, I guess they’re just the type of girl Tunny’s into.” Johnny didn’t respond, so he decided to keep talking. “Y’know, Tun said he thinks one of them likes me.”

“Who?”

“Uh… I think her name was Hannah?” he muttered, thinking before shaking his head. “No, Heather. A girl named Heather.”

It made Johnny laugh. “Dude, you didn’t already know? She looks at you, like, all the time. Kinda obvious she likes you. Guess it’s good that Tunny’s the one going after girls, since you’re about as aware as a fuckin’ goldfish.”

Will rolled his eyes, despite the grin on his face, and lightly elbowed the other teenager. “Whatever. She’s pretty. I don’t really get why she’d like me though, I can think of one entire time I’ve had an actual conversation with her.”

“Who knows?” Johnny shrugged, blowing smoke into Will’s face as he handed the cigarette to him. “Just don’t pull a Tunny and leave me for a fuckin’ girl. You guys are all I have.”

Sometimes, despite having known him forever, Will felt like Johnny was an enigma. He’d say things that no one would ever see coming. He was spontaneous, in such a way that it was sometimes almost scary. Scary not because Johnny would purposely do anything to harm himself or his friends, but because he didn’t think and either ended up pissing someone else off and starting a fight or ended up not thinking something through and would end up getting himself hurt anyway. Johnny Armstrong was a force to be reckoned with, and sometimes Will and Tunny would have to play mom to get him to calm the fuck down and chill out. 

This was one of the times that absolutely nothing could’ve prepared Will for what Johnny said.  _ Don’t leave me for a girl, you’re all I have. _ It wasn’t entirely true – Will and Tunny were his closest friends, sure, but Johnny practically had a whole sea of followers. The other Jingletown punks within their age bracket seemed to follow him like some kind of disciple, they all called him their Jesus of Suburbia. Will could see how that wasn’t the same, though. He and Tunny treated him like an equal, not like a god. Johnny loved it, being a leader and being looked up to, but he’s also expressed that it gets pretty tiring sometimes too. 

“Tunny’s not leaving us, Jesus,” Will assured him. “He’s just trying to get invited to a dance. Remember when he did that last year? He brought us back some of the good rich girl alcohol and we had our own party in my basement the day after.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Johnny mumbled. 

The pair finished their trek through the parking lot, stopping at their destination – Tunny’s truck. Usually Tunny was with them, so they’d get inside and roll the windows down and smoke and blare music until either their lunch period was over or a teacher came out and got onto them about the loud music (and, subsequently, the cigarettes). Since Tunny  _ wasn’t _ there, though, they settled for climbing up into the truck bed instead. There were still blankets back there, from the last time the three had gone out to the even-more-middle-of-nowhere to stargaze, which worked in their favor considering that it was the middle of November. 

They passed the cigarette back and forth until it was gone. Johnny drank his Monster. Neither one of them said much of anything, but Will could see the gears turning in Johnny’s head the entire time. “I wouldn’t ever leave you for a girl either, y’know,” he said, assuming that his friend's thoughts were still stuck on that topic. 

Johnny shrugged it off, taking another swig of the energy drink. Will hated those things, he didn’t understand how Johnny could drink them. It had an interesting affect on him though – it seemed to almost counteract what it was supposed to do. Johnny always had so much energy, always seemed to be ready to go and bounce off the walls, but for the next hour or so after drinking any kind of energy drink he always seemed oddly subdued. 

“I mean it. Even if Heather likes me and I end up going out with her or something, you’ll always come first. I’ve known you longer, you’ll always be more important than some girl.”

Truthfully, Will had no desire to go out with a girl anytime soon, anyway. In fact, he’d be completely fine to spend the rest of his life never getting a girlfriend, spending his days with his two best friends until the day he died. There was no way in hell some blonde cheerleader (or  _ any _ girl, for that matter) would come in between that. 

“Gay,” Johnny commented, with absolutely no ill-intent. Despite the playful and seemingly untactful response, Will could tell that what he’d said meant something to him. Johnny wasn’t necessarily good at words. He was the most expressive out of all three of them, but in a more quiet way – quiet enough that most people wouldn’t recognize it, but as someone who’s been around him since they were tiny, Will recognized everything. 

Johnny laid down on his back against the truck bed, and Will followed suit. They ended up tangled together, one of the blankets thrown across the two of them to protect themselves against the chilly air. “We should just skip our last classes,” Johnny said, a yawn following his words. “Stay here and take a nap or somethin’.”

Will absentmindedly trailed a hand through Johnny’s hair. For someone who didn’t shower as often as he should, his hair somehow always seemed to be soft. “Tunny wouldn’t be happy to see that we aren’t in geometry,” he pointed out. 

“Yeah, well, we aren’t happy that he ditched us for cheerleaders. I think we can call it even after this. Plus, I’m tired. Mom and Brad were at it all fuckin’ night last night, I hardly got any sleep.”

That was all it took for Will to agree. He, himself, wasn’t tired enough for a nap, but Johnny was definitely deserving of it. Whenever Brad was brought up, it was never anything good. He’d never liked Brad, even back when the old man was nothing but Johnny’s mom’s boyfriend. Brad had gotten worse over time, though – he’d been in their lives since Johnny was barely twelve years old. He was nearly seventeen now, and Will couldn’t understand how Johnny’s mom hadn’t picked up on the fact that Brad wasn’t (and would never be) a good man. Somehow, that relationship was still going ‘strong,’ for the lack of a better word. 

Brad seemed to keep Johnny awake in one way or another more often than not. Having sex, playing the TV too loud, yelling, or something else. Once, Johnny told Will that he slept better cramped next to him on the old couch at Will’s house than he ever has in his own bed. That was something that stuck with him. Johnny didn’t like to talk in depth about his struggles and his home life, but it didn’t stop Will from noticing. 

It didn’t take long for Johnny to fall asleep. Will just laid there, fingers still combing through his friend’s hair as if on autopilot, his eyes watching the sky above them. The good thing about lying in the truck bed was that if teachers or staff were to glance into the parking lot, they still wouldn’t be seen. It meant that his mom might receive a call saying that he was skipping class, but in the moment, it felt worth it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? creating an entire au while knowing damn well that there are only like three active people in this fandom? yeah.
> 
> anyway. i was actually kind of surprised by the lack of long multi-chaptered fics for this fandom, even of the fics that were dated back to when it was more active... so, as per usual, i decided to take it upon myself to change that. with that being said hopefully having a long multi-chaptered fic that's new and updates regularly will help bring the fandom back to life? idk. 
> 
> regardless, this will be a journey that i'm excited to write! hopefully i'll get some readers who will enjoy it as well :) 
> 
> also! i just wanted to mention now, before we even get to it:  
> \- whatsername will be called rebecca, for the sake of having a name  
> \- similarly, extraordinary girl will be called christina  
> (yes these are references to the obc)  
> \- any other named extra characters will also be named after the obc ensemble members  
> \- johnny's last name is armstrong, will's last name is esper, and tunny's last name is clarke (tunny's is canon)


	2. T W O

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Johnny forgot that they were dating. Sometimes, when she joined the three of them on a Friday night, Johnny would do something stupid like plant a kiss on Will’s cheek, and Heather would think about it all night.

“She asked you out.”

“Yeah.”

“And what’d you say?”  
  


“Yeah.”

“Damn, Will, do you even like her?”

It was a typical Friday night, as cliche as it sounds. Will, Tunny, and Johnny were sitting in the basement of Will’s house, the familiar scent of weed and alcohol in the air. It felt like home – the room was cosy, even if it was just an old couch, a few bean bag chairs, a coffee table, and a TV with a gaming console. There was a box of pizza on the coffee table tonight, which had been contributed by Tunny. His parents were out drinking again, which meant they left him a few twenties on the kitchen table, which meant he came over to Will’s bearing snacks. 

“I don’t know, I hardly know her!” Will answered, throwing his hands up in mock-surrender. “It’s just a date. I figured it was worth a shot. I’m eighteen and haven’t even had a first date yet. And I’ve only had my first kiss because of you.”

Johnny was sprawled out on one of the bean bags, eyes trained onto the ceiling. “And it was the best first kiss you could ever have. What if it goes horribly?” he asked. “What if it turns out she’s some kind of monster and wants you for money or something?”  
  


“What money?” Tunny cut in, earning a bark of laughter from Johnny and a shove from Will. “Besides that, you _do_ realize that’s what dates are for, right? Going on one date doesn’t mean he’s going to be stuck with her forever. If it goes badly, he just won’t do it again. If it goes well, then he can decide what he wants to do from there. That’s why he’s going on a date, not getting married.”

“If you get married, I’m going to cut your head off,” Johnny mumbled, sitting up just enough to snatch another piece of pepperoni pizza before flopping back against the bean bag. “That goes for both of you. If either of you go off and get married, we’ll probably never see each other again, so you’re dead.”

Tunny rolled his eyes, “You’re so dramatic. I wouldn’t want to get married anyway, you know that.”

Marriage was a conversation they’d had before, and they reached a general consensus that none of them would be getting married. They all had their own reasons – Tunny’s being that he didn’t want to end up like his own parents, Will’s being that marriage seemed entirely too confining, and Johnny’s being that he struggled to healthily commit himself to anything at all, let alone a relationship. They ignored the fact that they were still young, only eighteen (and barely even that, in Johnny’s case), and that their life goals could change as they continued to grow older. 

Johnny waved his free hand in the air, dismissing the topic, as he chewed and swallowed a bite of pizza. “Whatever,” he started. “When’s your date, William? What day are Tunny and I gonna be left alone to fend for ourselves in the wild?”

“Tomorrow. She wants to have a picnic.”

“Are you gonna bring weed?” Johnny asked, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Will seemed to contemplate it for a minute. “Should I?” he asked, turning his attention over to Tunny. “Does she smoke?”

“She smokes, but it’s supposed to be a secret. She’s a cheerleader, she said she’d get kicked from the team if anyone found out,” Tunny answered. “So if you’re gonna bring weed, make sure you’ll be somewhere more secluded.”

“Right, okay. I keep forgetting she’s a cheerleader.”

“Hope she’s not one of the annoying cheerleaders, for your sake,” Johnny said, and was met with a pillow to the face. 

———

She wasn’t. 

Heather was actually really cool. She was pretty, but in a different way from the other cheerleaders. She was blonde and had blue eyes, but her attractiveness went deeper than ideal appearances plus caked on makeup. In fact, when she wasn’t in her cheer uniform (which is the only thing Will had seen her in previous to their first date), she looked entirely different. She was more punk than Will could’ve ever imagined. When he got to their meeting place, in the grassy field behind the old playground, he almost thought he’d been set up with someone else. 

She was funny. She was grateful for the weed that Will had brought along with him, and she definitely wasn’t a lightweight. He learned that she didn’t even want to be a cheerleader, that it was just something she did to make her parents happy. She told him that if she had it her way, she would just survive through high school and then move away for college. She didn’t seem too impressed when Will said he wasn’t interested in college, but she changed the topic to try and disguise that. 

It was a nice date. Nice enough that it turned into two, and three, and four. Nice enough that Will asked her to be his girlfriend, and that she sometimes hung around when he and the boys did their nightly alcohol and weed video game sessions. 

Sometimes Johnny forgot that they were dating. Sometimes, when she joined the three of them on a Friday night, Johnny would do something stupid like plant a kiss on Will’s cheek, and Heather would think about it all night. 

Not only would she think about it all night, but she brought it up whenever Tunny and Johnny finally went home. 

“What?” Will asked, rubbing his temple as if the action could cure the swelling hangover from the previous night. He always preferred weed to beer, but beer was what they’d had more of last night. 

“Johnny kisses you,” Heather said, perched on the arm rest of the couch. She wasn’t hungover. She’d smoked a bit and had a few sips from one of Will’s beer cans, but she’d absolutely been the most sober. “A lot. I don’t know, it just feels weird to me.”

“He was drunk,” he said, as if that was a justifiable answer, as if it didn’t happen when all parties were sober anyway. “Plus, it doesn’t mean anything. He kissed Tunny, too.”

“He kisses you more. And you’ve kissed him back.”

“Friends can kiss each other, Heather. It’s always been like this.”

She sighed, raking her fingers through her hair. “You’re in a _relationship,_ Will. That’s new. Things have to adapt when changes happen, and this is something you guys need to adapt to. I don’t like that other people are kissing you, and that you’re kissing them, when we’re together.”

For a split second, Will considered saying something along the lines of she could break up with him if she didn’t like it, his mind going back to what he’d said to Johnny this time last year. _I’ve known you longer, you’ll always be more important than some girl._ It was true. Johnny came first in Will’s mind, and always would. That being said, he did also love Heather. At least, he thought he did. 

Instead of saying anything, however, Will stood up and pressed a kiss to Heather’s forehead. She leaned into him, and all things seemed to be okay.


	3. T H R E E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re gonna fuckin’ die here.”
> 
> Tunny looked over at him. “What’re you talking about?” he asked. “You gonna kill us or something?”
> 
> Will snickered, but Johnny didn’t. 
> 
> || cw/tw: mentions of suicidal thoughts, mentions of child abuse.

“As soon as I turn eighteen, I’m leaving here and I’m taking you guys with me.” That’s what Johnny used to say. He said it for the first time when they were thirteen. 

It had been at his parents’ wedding. It destroyed him that his mother could marry again, especially a man like  _ Brad, _ after what happened to his father. Johnny had always expressed wanting to leave, hating Jingletown, but this was the first time he actually said anything with such finality. 

It had been such a surprise that it had made Tunny laugh. Johnny had glared at him, in his scrawny thirteen-year-old glory, dressed in an ill-fitting suit that he didn’t even want to be wearing. “I’m serious, Tunny. I don’t even care how we have to do it, but we’re leaving when we’re eighteen.”

Will hadn’t commented on it, but he hadn’t believed it. And then Johnny said it again, a month later, after Brad had done something particularly bad. 

This time, they were at Tunny’s house. Johnny told him about the things Brad had said to him, about how Brad had slapped him and how the force had nearly thrown him across the kitchen. His two friends listened in horror. “I swear,” Johnny was saying, his hand absentmindedly resting over the bruise that swelled on his cheek, “I’m leaving the  _ second _ I turn eighteen. I’m never coming back.”

Tunny and Will had assumed it was just a veiled threat, that it was something he said because he was mad and there wasn’t anything else he could do about it. 

The third time was when they finally realized he was being serious. They were fourteen. “I don’t know if I’ll make it to eighteen,” Johnny told them. “I’m either gonna fuckin’ kill myself or run away.”

“Johnny, that’s not funny,” Will had said. Johnny was impulsive. As scary of a thought that it was, he could’ve been very serious. Even if he didn’t actually want to die, if something upset him enough and he didn’t have anyone to stop him… 

“I’m serious. I can’t do this shit anymore.”

The next day, neither one of them had heard from him. Both of them were worried sick, but Will was the only one who actually showed it. He paced around Tunny’s dining room, rambling on about how they shouldn’t have let him go home after talking like that, about how they should’ve notified the school counselor (despite how much all three of them hated her), that they should’ve done  _ something _ . They called Johnny’s mom, but somehow she didn’t even know that he was gone. He didn’t answer any calls or texts. 

He came back the day after. He’d tried to run away on bike, but he only got as far as a truck stop. He’d stayed the night in the back, bummed cigarettes and alcohol from some of the homeless guys back there, but returned home because he “didn’t pack enough clothes or cash.” 

It turned into a trend. Every few months something would happen, Johnny would get pissed off or upset or just over it, and he would run away. Will would worry about him, he would come back, and Tunny would lecture him about leaving. This only ever stopped when Johnny’s mom called the cops one night, when he was sixteen and was brought home in a cop car. He was fuming – and so was Brad. 

Then, it went back to “when I turn eighteen.” He kept saying that once he was eighteen, his parents couldn’t use a missing child report against him ever again. Once he was eighteen, he could do whatever the hell he wanted, and he’d never set foot in Jingletown ever again. 

Now he  _ was _ eighteen. And he was still in Jingletown. He was in Jingletown, in the bed of his friend’s truck. It was just the three of them, their weed and beer, and the empty field of grass and stars. Music played from the inside of the truck, Tunny left the windows down so they could still hear it. Aside from that, the only sound was the crickets. 

Johnny toyed with the dog tag necklace he wore underneath his shirts, the one that once belonged to his dad. His dad wouldn’t want him to be stuck here. His dad would’ve wanted him to do what he wanted – to go out and follow his dreams, to make something of himself. He couldn’t do that in Jingletown. 

“We’re gonna fuckin’ die here.”

Tunny looked over at him. “What’re you talking about?” he asked. “You gonna kill us or something?”

Will snickered, but Johnny didn’t. “I’m serious,” he said. “We’re gonna die here. In Jingletown. We’re not gonna amount to anything. Is that really how we want to go out?”

“No,” Tunny answered. “But what the fuck else are we supposed to do? My truck is barely even alive now, there’s no way it’d get us anywhere past the train tracks.”

“And bus tickets are stupid expensive,” Will pointed out. “And we’d die before we’d get anywhere by walking. And it’s not like any of our parents would support us leaving, so they wouldn’t help us.”

Out of all of them, Will currently had the best parents. His mom and dad were strict, but kind. Tunny’s parents were hardly ever home, were always out drinking and were stuck in a broken marriage and used cash to try and buy Tunny’s love. Before Johnny’s father died, he had the best parents – but he was gone when Johnny was seven, and Brad was the worst thing introduced into Johnny’s life. 

“If we could leave right now, though, wouldn’t you want to?” Johnny asked them. 

“Obviously,” Tunny said. 

“Of course,” Will nodded. “I’d give anything to get out of here.”

“So then why aren’t we trying?”


	4. F O U R

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That was the thing about living in Jingletown. Word flew fast. You couldn’t do anything without practically everyone else knowing about it.

Papers flew everywhere, fluttering off of walls and shelves and from in between fingers to land and spread out on the floor. It was almost, for the lack of a better word, beautiful – like a thick snowfall. Of course, Johnny was the cause of it all. 

“I don’t care if you don’t,” he’d said. Somehow, it started an uproar. Nobody cared. They only realized how much they didn’t care after Johnny pointed it out. That’s how Jingletown seemed to survive these days. 

None of them really remembered when or how Johnny became the leader of the underbelly, but everyone had just grown to accept it. What Johnny said is what went, everyone followed behind him. At this point, it felt like even if Johnny were to suggest they do something stupidly illegal like sneak into the next town over and rob a bank, he’d have a devoted group of followers that would hang onto his every word. Thankfully, Johnny wasn’t stupid – at least not  _ that _ stupid – and handled his unofficial leadership with as much responsibility as someone like him would. Which is why he started riots in the middle of the 7-Eleven parking lot at five o’clock in the evening. 

Johnny stood in the middle of it, and for a moment Will could actually see him as some kind of religious figure. A punk rock religious figure with messy unwashed brown hair and brown eyes that still had a childlike brightness to them, dressed in dark ripped jeans and band t-shirts and flannels. Despite his ragged appearance, the way the evening sun cast highlights and shadows across his figure made him look way more professional than Will truthfully knew he was. He stood there, on top of an overturned shopping cart, surrounded by all the other punks who would echo him or shout praise or agreement. 

Will and Tunny stood at his sides, partially responsible for making sure the shopping cart didn’t fall over. They were recognized and looked up to as Johnny’s best friends, but they didn’t have nearly the same repute that Johnny did. They were just kind of there. They were used to it, it didn't bother them – honestly, they preferred it that way. They’d had plenty of conversations about it before, about how Johnny was absolutely destined to be bigger than either of them ever would be. Out of all three of them, he seemed to be the most likely to make something out of his life. Will didn’t have enough drive, and Tunny was too difficult to inspire. Johnny, however, still had a childlike naivety to him. All he needed was a push in the right direction.

He hopped down off of the shopping cart, smiling at them in his child-that-is-about-to-misbehave way. “Will, Tunny,” he said, as if he hadn’t grabbed their attention anyway. “Are we gonna waste our lives, or are we gonna get the fuck out of here?”

They looked at each other, then at Johnny – they’ve discussed this too many times now. Yes, they wanted to leave. No, they didn’t have the means to leave. Therefore, they were stuck. But then, Johnny took them by surprise. 

“Take one last look at this shithole,” he said, fumbling in his jeans pockets, “‘cause these are our tickets outta here.”

They were filled with doubt for a split second, before Johnny pressed a bus ticket into both of their hands. “Thank you, Jesus!” Will cheered, throwing an arm around Johnny and raising his ticket to the sky. 

Tunny shoved Johnny’s shoulder playfully, “You saved my fuckin’ life.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Johnny said, but it was obvious that he liked the praise. “C’mon, we gotta pack – we’ve got a half hour.”

The trek from the 7-Eleven to their neighborhood wasn’t necessarily short, but they didn’t care. This walk had been made for years, it wouldn’t be surprising if there was a dent in the sidewalk where the three of them had walked back and forth over the years. Still, it somehow felt both longer and shorter now, knowing that this would be the last time they’d do it. They’d walk it now, and they’d walk it back once more to get to the bus station, and then they were free from Jingletown and all it’s glory for the rest of their lives. 

Due to the excitement of finally getting out of there, none of them really made great packing choices. Their guitars, a change of clothes or two, and whatever cash was left lying around in their respective houses. All together, they couldn’t have had anything more than three hundred dollars, if they even had that – but it was good enough for a start. 

Will seemed to know everything about the city. He had a cousin who lived there in the past, and he used to go out and visit her. She moved away, otherwise Will probably would’ve convinced her to help move them out there, but he gained general knowledge from her help. Where things were, how to navigate. He was rambling on about it as they reconveinved and made their way towards the bus stop. Johnny wasn’t really listening, too busy listening to the excitement buzzing in his head, but Tunny seemed to be catching at least some of it. That was, until he was cut off by a voice behind them. 

“Will!”

Heather. All three of them turned around. They were halfway there – a two more minute walk for the bus stop, and about a ten minute wait for the bus. They were  _ so close. _

“Yeah, baby?” Will responded, as if he wasn’t just about to leave her in the dust. 

She held something in her hands. Multiple somethings. As Will took a few steps closer to her, away from his future, he felt his heart drop. Pregnancy tests. 

“You can’t go,” she said, taking one of his hands. 

That was the thing about living in Jingletown. Word flew fast. You couldn’t do anything without practically everyone else knowing about it. When Johnny had handed Tunny and Will their bus tickets, someone had seen and the word flew like wildfire. Johnny, Will, and Tunny were leaving. 

“You can’t,” she said again, and the words felt like a slap to all three of their faces. “It’s going to be your child too. You can’t just.. pack up and leave us here alone. We need you, Will.”

Will turned around, meeting the eyes of his two best friends. The people he’d spent his entire life growing up next to. He was bound to Jingletown, Heather still gripping onto the hand that didn’t hold his bags. “Guys, I…”

The silence was deafening. For a moment, it seemed like  _ no one _ knew what to do. Then Johnny adjusted his grip on his guitar case and turned around and kept walking. After another moment, Tunny did the same. 

Although it absolutely hurt like hell, Will understood. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo sorry this chapter took a bit longer than the rest lmao. uhh if you have any feedback and/or suggestions and/or comments and/or concerns... pls lmk i love hearing from people <3


	5. F I V E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite it being a completely new experience, it still didn’t feel right without Will. Both of them tried to ignore that fact.

It felt oddly quiet without Will, despite the fact that Johnny often spoke enough for all three of them. Tunny and Johnny made the walk to the bus stop, alone yet together. The silence was only broken when they arrived and took a seat on the bench. 

“Man,” it was Tunny who spoke up first. “Will’s a dad.”

“Not yet. Baby isn’t born yet,” Johnny pointed out.

“Whatever, he’s practically already a dad. All the pre-baby shit that has to be taken care of pretty much qualifies him as a dad.”

Johnny forgot about the ‘pre-baby shit.’ Will and Heather would have to buy so much stuff, stuff that they definitely didn’t have the money for. Diapers and clothes and carseats and bottles and high chairs and changing tables and whatever else. It wasn’t something he really thought about – he didn’t have any desire to be a parent. And last time he checked, neither of his friends did, either. “Y’know… he’ll probably be a pretty good dad,” Johnny said, after a moment of silence. “One of the real overprotective ones, though.”   
  
Tunny laughed a bit, nodding his head. “Yeah. He’d freak out over every little thing.”

Maybe they were in denial about the fact that they were about to make the biggest move of their entire life without their third part. Perhaps it felt like some weird dream, that they’d wake up and Will would be there right with them, as he should be. Or maybe they were just pretending that this was how it’s supposed to be now. Either way, both of them were trying to ignore the discomfort that came with the missing member of their friendship. Tunny drummed his fingers against his guitar case. 

It was quiet again, until the bus showed up. The pair got up and climbed the steps of the rickety old bus. It was filled with other people like them – punks, desperate to get somewhere,  _ anywhere,  _ else. Johnny picked a seat in the very back, away from others, and Tunny followed his lead. 

Johnny turned his gaze out the window, watching as the town he grew up in disappeared behind them.

Tunny adjusted the grey beanie on his head. “Do you think we’ll ever see him again?”

“Who cares?” Johnny asked, though there wasn’t any real bite behind his words. He tried to pretend there was, though. “ _ He  _ was the one who left  _ us _ . He turned back. He chose a girl over us.”

It was a childish way to look at it. But Johnny always picked a bitter way to look at things. Tunny didn’t have a response for him. 

The bus churned on for a few minutes longer. 

“I fuckin’ hope we do,” Johnny muttered after that time had passed. “I hope we see him and his stupid fuckin’ kid.”

In an ideal world, Will would only be missing from them for a few months. They’d still call and text, he’d only be missing in physical presence. He’d be stuck in Jingletown until Heather had the baby, and then they’d all move out to live near wherever Tunny and Johnny ended up. Hell, maybe they could even convince Will to pack him and Heather up and have them move out before the baby’s born – god knows it’d be easier on them to move before they had a child to lug around, too. 

Really, though, in an ideal world, Will would be with them at that moment. They’d ride the bus together, get off on the stop that Will told them to, and start their new lives somewhere better.

This was not an ideal world. 

Johnny ended up falling asleep, head pressed against the cool glass of the window. Tunny woke him up when the bus eventually croaked to a stop, at a rather shady looking area of the city. The City.  _ Their _ City. 

Rubbing his eyes as he followed Tunny off the bus, Johnny finally recognized that neither one of them had a clue about what they were doing or what their next step should be. “What do we do next, Tuna?”

Tunny shrugged, not responding to the nickname. His eyes scanned the city around them, bustling with life even at night. “I guess we have to find somewhere to go for the night.”

After at least two hours of walking, they ended up in an old, ratty motel. Tunny made a comment about the amount of drug dealing that had to go on in this area, but Johnny waved it off. This place was quite literally the only place they could find that was within their price range. If they tried going anywhere else, they wouldn’t have enough money to even get breakfast tomorrow morning, let alone sustain the lives of two nineteen year old boys. 

It was a simple room, one queen sized bed for the two of them to share, a bathroom, and a television. No kitchen. “That’s okay, it’s not like we can cook anyway,” Johnny had said. Tunny had shoved him because,  _ fuck you Jesus I can cook, _ but hadn’t made any further comments after that. They clicked through the television for a few hours, and eventually ended up passing out. 

———

Their first day in The City was experimental. 

It started with them waking up. Tunny was up first, because he was always the early bird. No matter how late he went to bed, he was always up by ten in the morning at the very latest. Sometimes, Johnny could sleep the whole day away. He didn’t today, though. Tunny was up at nine, and Johnny joined him by eleven. By twelve, both of them were out of the hotel and on the bustling sidewalks of the city. 

Despite it being a completely new experience, it still didn’t feel right without Will. Both of them tried to ignore that fact. 

“There’s more people in this restaurant than there are in all of Jingletown,” Johnny said, in between bites of toast. They’d picked the most mid-scale restaurant they could find – not so sketchy that it didn’t seem safe, but not too upscale because they didn’t have the money for that. “That’s fuckin’ crazy. It’s fuckin’ crazy here.”

Tunny rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. “You’re fuckin’ crazy,” he responded. “We need to figure out where we’re gonna work. You know? We can’t just live off of the money our parents left us. They aren’t going to keep supplying us with that anymore, you know that right?”

Johnny waved his fork in the air, “My mom would if I asked her.”

“Not for forever. Maybe for a little, but you know she ain’t gonna be happy when she finds out you left, especially now that she can’t do anything to get you back,” Tunny pointed out. “You know, even if she wanted to, your stupid stepdad’ll probably stop her.”

“Goddamned Brad. Wish he’d just die already,” Johnny sighed. 

“Hey,” Tunny shrugged, “least you won’t have to deal with him anymore out here. God knows he doesn’t care enough to come out here to yell at you.”

Sometimes, that felt debatable. If he was mad enough… Johnny leaned back in his seat, the old wood creaking beneath him. “Yeah, whatever. Tun, we don’t need to work. We got our guitars. We’ll just play. People’ll give us money. That’s how cities work.”

He raised an eyebrow, “They could work for now, but not for the long run. Playing guitar for strangers on the street ain’t gonna pay our bills, especially after we get out of that damn motel.”

“Not with that attitude, Tuna fish,” Johnny responded. Tunny threw a sausage patty at him. 

  
  


The rest of their day was spent exploring. Tunny found himself feeling exhausted halfway through the day, already wanting to return to the motel and watch TV. Johnny was more and more energized the more they walked on, pointing at signs and buildings and things that Jingletown just couldn’t offer them. They were out from noon until past midnight, but as the sketchier kinds of people made their appearances, Tunny managed to convince Johnny to go back to the motel. 

“I don’t want to get caught in that shit,” Tunny said, dragging Johnny away from a steadily increasing group of people. “That’s most definitely some druggie shit.”

“We’re in the  _ city _ now, Tunny!” Johnny had tried to complain, though not making much of an attempt to break away from him. “Of course we’re gonna see that shit. We need to learn to embrace it.”

Tunny gave him a look. “Well, you can embrace it when I’m not around, because  _ I _ don’t want to get busted for being near a drug deal.”


	6. S I X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will couldn’t remember the last time he left the couch. Tunny was miserable. Johnny was thriving, for the most part.

_ Dear Will, _

_ It sucks that you aren’t here. All Tunny ever does is sleep. He doesn’t get it yet, but this place is big enough for all the fuck-ups and the underbelly. _

_ Shine your light on this, motherfucker! I got plans, baby. Hang your dark cloud over your dirty, old town. The end of the world is over. The dawning of a new city. New faces, new voices… _

_ My voice. My city. _

_ Jesus.  _

It still didn’t feel real. Johnny and Tunny had been gone for nearly a month now, and Will was still in denial. They’d be back. It was just a joke – they didn’t actually want to leave without him. It would be like when they were younger, when Johnny would run away for a day or two and would be back, Tunny just went along this time too. They just stayed a little longer than usual. 

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, William,” he muttered to himself. 

It  _ was _ real. Tunny was gone. Johnny was gone. His two best friends in the entire fucking world were gone, and Will was left with nothing but himself. Well, and his pregnant girlfriend – she was about a month and a half pregnant by now. Some of Will’s time had been spent helping her pick things out for the baby. Most of it was spent wallowing in his loneliness. 

Heather just didn’t understand. “You aren’t alone, Will,” she’d say. “You have me. You have our other friends out here.” She didn’t understand that herself, Alysha and Theo weren’t the same as Johnny and Tunny. She didn’t understand that Johnny and Tunny were like his platonic soulmates, and that this was the first time they’d ever split up in at  _ least _ ten years straight. 

Will’s fingers fiddled with the edges of the postcard. Johnny’s handwriting was so comfortably familiar, and it almost hurt to look at it. It almost hurt to think of his best friend in the entire world, miles and miles away from him. There were no more spontaneous late night hang outs. No more game nights. No more 7-Eleven hauls. No more anything. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he left the couch, aside from getting up to use the bathroom or to grab another beer. Heather was annoyed with him. He wasn’t helping. He knew that – but she wasn’t helping him, either. 

The only times Will felt any semblance of okayness was when Johnny would actually pick up the phone. It was almost always Will who called first, and less than half of those times, Johnny would pick up. They never talked for too long, because Johnny said he had places to be and that they would talk later, but it was still the only form of familiarity that Will could get. 

Will somehow always knew that Johnny would end up leaving. He wasn’t mad at him for that. He wasn’t mad at Tunny, either – in fact, as weird as it was to admit, he was glad that they still took the opportunity instead of staying back with him. He was glad that he didn’t bring them down. But he did miss them like hell, and he did wish that circumstances were different. 

He was tied here. Because of Heather. Because of their baby. He felt bitter towards her, even though it wasn’t really his fault. Still, he wondered, if they had left just a minute earlier, if he would be in the city with them. If they had all finished packing just a minute sooner, if Johnny had gave them the bus tickets a minute earlier than he did. Maybe Heather wouldn’t have found him and told him she was pregnant. Maybe he’d have boarded the bus with his two best friends in the entire universe. Maybe she’d have called him with the news, but it would’ve been too late. 

Maybe nothing would be different at all. Maybe, no matter what, Will was destined to be stuck in Jingletown for the rest of his life. 

———

Tunny was miserable. He knew he shouldn’t be, because this was what he’d wanted for forever, but he was. Perhaps that’s what made him even  _ more _ miserable. 

All of his time was spent in bed. He was either watching TV, mindlessly flipping through the dead channels filled with nothing but filth and American trash, or sleeping. He used the be the active one. He used to be the one who needed the least amount of sleep, because he was active enough and busy enough that he didn’t let being tired affect him. Maybe that was coming back to bite him in the ass now. 

“Tun,” Johnny would say, nudging him with the head of his guitar. “Tuna. Tunny. C’mon, there’s a show tonight. Free entry!”

“Jesus, Johnny, don’t you get it?” he’d snap, without any thought. “I don’t want to go out. I’m tired.”

Johnny would sigh. Sometimes he’d feign annoyance, but Tunny could always see that it was actually hurt. Eventually, Johnny would leave on his own. Tunny would usually end up waking up later on to Johnny having returned, asleep either in bed with him or on the couch. More recently, he seemed to choose the couch. 

That made him feel even  _ more _ miserable. Obviously, the last thing Tunny wanted to do was hurt his friend. He didn’t want to put a distance between them. They’d already lost Will, for the most part. It’s been a month and Tunny hasn’t even so much has answered the texts Will sent his way. The only times he talked to Johnny, whom he saw every fucking day, were to tell him to leave him alone. 

He was always tired. Too tired to talk to anyone. Too tired to do anything. It was a kind of tired that ran deeper than anything sleep could fix. He knew that, and yet still chose to spend the vast majority of his time asleep.

This was supposed to be good. This was supposed to be where their lives began. They finally got out of Jingletown and the whole world was laid out in front of Tunny now, and he was choosing to spend it in bed in a ratty old motel room. 

All the TV channels were the same. Because it was such a cheap room, the channels available to him were the same. It was all politics, all about the American Dream – which sounded more like a nightmare than anything. At least, it used to. 

The good guys don’t wear red, white and blue. That’s what Johnny said. That’s what he and Will said, too. But Tunny’s world was becoming so black and white that he found himself slowly being drawn to the colors. 

Red. White. Blue. The colors flashed on his screen. Handsome men, gorgeous women. Maybe if Tunny was anything like them, he wouldn’t be nearly as miserable. 

“It’s your favorite son,” the women on the TV said. 

Tunny watched the women. Tunny watched the man in the center of it all. Tunny wanted to be him. 

———

Johnny was thriving, for the most part. The city was exactly what he was hoping for. Big, bustling, bold. Full of opportunities, full of people, full of things, full of  _ life. _ Everything he was deprived of in his nineteen years of living in Jingletown. 

He made money on the streets by playing guitar. He wrote things, he covered things. He sat on an empty bench along the sidewalks and played and sang. People would walk by and listen to him, drop some spare change into his guitar case. It didn’t make much, not enough for a living, but Johnny sure  _ felt _ like he was living. Sometimes, when he picked a more popular song to sing, some of the other city goers would stop by and sing with him. That shit never happened in Jingletown. 

Sometimes, Johnny had to remind himself to stop thinking about Jingletown. Other than the fact that Will was there, he didn’t have any ties there anymore. Jingletown was as good as dead to him now, it didn’t deserve a place in his thoughts. Nowadays, he was preoccupied with the city and what could come of it. Maybe he’d become famous. Maybe he’d make it big, and he’d have the money to move Will and Heather and their baby out here with them. Maybe he’d have the money to coax Tunny out of bed. 

He met some friends, if you could call them that. They were fun during the day, but disappeared into the night for some ‘saint,’ they called him. Johnny didn’t understand it, but he knew for a fact that they were the druggies that Tunny was so adamant about staying away from. Johnny didn’t care to stay away from them. At least they talked to him and kept him company and gave him some pointers about the city. They even made him consider paying this ‘saint’ a visit, himself. Once he could figure out where to find him, that was.

He also met a girl. Well,  _ met  _ wasn’t quite the right word.  _ Observed _ was better. She was gorgeous. He never saw her anywhere but from her window, up on a higher story of a tall building. He’d almost gotten her attention, once, but when she looked his way he hid behind his guitar. Johnny never was one to be shy, or nervous, or afraid of people. If he wanted to talk to someone, he’d march up to them and do it. This girl was different. 

“She’s so fuckin’ pretty,” he tried to tell Tunny. Tunny grunted in response, then pulled the blankets tighter around himself. 

“She’s really fuckin’ gorgeous,” he told Will over the phone once. 

Will had given him a real response. “Have you talked to her?” When Johnny said no, Will laughed. It wasn’t the same laugh he was used to hearing, but he was too preoccupied with the thoughts of the Whatsername in the window to notice. “Well, it doesn’t mean anything if you don’t talk to her.”

Johnny knew he was right, but he didn’t like to hear it. “Maybe I’ll talk to her, then.”

“Let me know how it goes,” Will said. Somehow, both of them knew that it would be a while before they’d actually talk again. 


	7. S E V E N

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You don’t look like a saint.”
> 
> “And you don’t look like Jesus, but I didn’t doubt you. Did I, Jesus?”

He talked to her. Well, not really. There was no actual talking. But there was an interaction, and that was further than he’d ever gotten. It was like talking, but silently. Like in one of those old fashioned black and white films, before movie studios had gotten the technology to film with sound or color. 

But there was color. Oh, there was so much color. 

The Whatsername was sitting at her window again. Johnny was standing on the side of the street playing his guitar again. He played in her direction. She caught his gaze. This time, instead of hiding or running away, he raised his guitar in the air – still staring directly at her. She seemed surprised, caught off guard and brought out of her typical, bored stupor. She laughed at him. But it wasn’t a bad laugh, it was a laugh that made Johnny feel hope. She laughed, blew him a kiss, and then closed her window. 

Johnny’s heart swelled. 

Once she was gone, he didn’t feel like he had much of a purpose just standing there, guitar raised high above his head. So he dropped it back down to his side and rushed back home to his and Tunny’s motel room to tell Tunny everything. 

“Tunny, you’ll never believe it! She smiled at me,” Johnny was saying, before he was even all the way in the room. He stood with his back to the open room, closing the door, rambling on. “I was playin’ for her again, y’know, and she looked out her window again like she always does. I think part of her hair is  _ pink,  _ Tun – I thought it was just lighting, but I think it’s actually pink. Anyway, she looked out there and she looked at me and I–… Tunny?”

Usually, he’d get  _ something. _ A grunt, the squeak of the bed shifting underneath his weight. It was always something, even if it was just Tunny telling him to leave him alone. Something to acknowledge his existence. This time… nothing. 

Johnny stepped further into the room, and instantly knew something was up. The bed was neatly made, and all of Tunny’s belongings were gone. Surely this was just a prank. Where the hell would Tunny go, anyway? Back to Jingletown? Absolutely not. Even though Tunny had spent the entire time here sleeping or watching television, Johnny would assume that it was better to do that here rather than there.

“Tunny?” he tried calling out again. “You asshole, this isn’t funny.”

No response. There was, however, a crumpled up piece of paper on Johnny’s side of the bed. 

_ I left for the Middle East. I’m going to war. Tell Will for me. And please don’t make any stupid decisions while I’m gone.  _

_ Tunny. _

For a minute, Johnny was filled with blinding rage. What the fuck? What the  _ fuck? _ His body was red hot, searing with anger. Why the fuck would Tunny leave him? To go to war? Johnny would’ve rather found out that Tunny was headed back to Jingletown. At least then he’d know that Tunny was fucking  _ safe.  _ ‘Please don’t make any stupid decisions while I’m gone.’ Yeah, because going to war wasn’t a stupid decision. 

Johnny thought of his dad. Not Brad, his real dad. He thought about the folded up American flag that used to hang on the wall in their living room, the one that Brad had promptly taken down and stashed somewhere in the garage as soon as he started dating Johnny’s mom. He thought about the dog tags that hung around his own neck, the ones he’s had since he was seven years old. The same ones that his dad had worn for even longer. 

His rage started to hurt. He crumbled the piece of paper in his hands, even more than it already had been, and threw it against the wall with all the force he could muster. What the fuck? He said it out loud. “What the fuck?” He yelled it. “ _ What the FUCK?”  _ If he wasn’t already in a sketchy motel in an even sketchier part of the city, somebody probably would’ve called the police or sent someone up to check on him. 

The good guys don’t wear red, white or blue. The red, white and blue was what caused Brad to be brought into his life. Tunny’s dreams had somehow turned red, white and blue, and now Johnny was all alone. 

–––

He didn’t know when he’d left the motel. He didn’t know how long he’d been wandering the streets. He only even came to realize that he was wandering the streets when he almost got hit by a motorcyclist. 

“Hey, kid. There’s a sidewalk for a reason,” the man said. Johnny couldn’t make out any facial features, due to a combination of the bright headlights and the fact that the guy was wearing a helmet. Johnny didn’t have a response – and he didn’t make a move to get out of the middle of the street, either. Surprisingly enough, aside from them, there wasn’t any traffic. That would explain why Johnny hadn’t actually been hit yet, he supposed. It seemed like his silence was enough of an answer for the guy. “You alright?”

Johnny considered it for a moment. “Do I look alright?” he settled on answering. He could’ve cringed at the way his voice sounded, weak and hoarse from the yelling and screaming and, admittedly, crying he’d done in the motel room. And, apparently, out here – his face was still damp when he scrubbed a fist against his eye. 

“No,” the man answered simply. He got off his bike, leaving it standing there in the middle of the road, and placed a hand on Johnny’s shoulder to guide him off the road. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Jesus,” Johnny answered simply, miserably.

It made the guy laugh, but Johnny didn’t see the humor in it. “Jesus?” he repeated. “Huh. What a coincidence. I’m Saint.”

Johnny scrubbed at his face again before looking up at the man – he was still wearing his dark helmet.  _ “The _ Saint?” he asked. 

“So you’ve already heard of me.”

“Kinda hard not to.”

The saint just grinned, mischievous and cat-like. Like he was scheming. He sat down on a bench, one of the ones that Johnny had played his guitar on a few times in the past month. He gestured for Johnny to sit down next to him with one hand, using the other hand to take his helmet off and set it at his feet. 

“You don’t look like a saint,” Johnny said. He didn’t. He was tall and scrawny, very pale. He had light colored eyes, but you couldn’t tell against the dark makeup he wore around his eyes. His hair was jet black, stick straight, and half shaved. He was dressed in mostly black, but there was shimmer and shine to some of it. He wore a lot of jewelry, all black or silver. It was obvious that he was older than Johnny, by at least a good five to ten years. He didn’t look like a saint, but he did look cool. He knew how to dress himself, and he held himself with confidence.

“And you don’t look like Jesus, but I didn’t doubt you.” He spoke cleanly and calmly, and almost condescendingly. Like he knew that he was bigger and better and older and more mature than Johnny was, so he had no choice but to speak to him like a child. “Did I, Jesus?”

Johnny cleared his throat. “My name’s Johnny. People call me Jesus. My friends used to call me Jesus.” He could feel the saint’s eyes on him, but Johnny kept his trained downwards. He didn’t like the way this guy was staring at him. He couldn’t understand what it was about this guy that made the other city rat’s flock to him like he really  _ was _ their patron saint. 

“My real name’s Jimmy.  _ Saint _ Jimmy, but it’s usually just shortened to Saint.”

“Why not just Jimmy?”   
  
“My followers have their reasons,” he said, with a cocky arrogance that made Johnny decide he’d rather just call him Jimmy. “Just as I’m sure yours had theirs. Where are they now?”

The question caught him off guard. Johnny’s head popped up, meeting Jimmy’s gaze. “Uh– Who?”

“Your followers.”

“Oh. They’re– I’m not from here. They’re back at… home.” He hated calling it home.

Jingletown wasn’t home. It had never been home. 

Jimmy nodded. “I’m aware. I’ve never seen someone look so lost in a place they grew up in,” he said. “What brings you here, then?”

Usually, Johnny wouldn’t be open with a stranger. Especially not a stranger like Jimmy. He got weird vibes from the older man, but they were weird in such a way that he couldn’t even describe them. Not necessarily bad. Not necessarily good. Just weird. Odd. He’d never gotten anything from someone like that before. Johnny thought that maybe he should be wary around Jimmy, maybe he ought to be careful, but it wasn’t like he had anything or anyone else to live for at this point anyway. Both of his best friends were gone, miles away, and he was alone for the first time in his entire life in a huge and unfamiliar city. “We’d been talkin’ about it for years. We hated it back home. It wasn’t  _ home, _ we just called it that because we had to. We grew up there, but we all hated it. So we came here.”

“We,” Jimmy said simply, encouraging Johnny to elaborate. 

“Yeah. My friends. We all came here together– or, well, me and Tunny did. Will didn’t even get on the bus. He got his girlfriend pregnant. He was gonna leave her, but then he found out she was pregnant, so he stayed.” Jimmy didn’t offer a response this time, so Johnny kept talking. “And then Tunny…  _ Fuck.  _ Tunny just left. Fuckin’ war. He left me for the fuckin’  _ military. _ He’s going to the Middle East or some shit, and all he left me was a fuckin’ piece of paper he wrote on. I didn’t even get to tell him goodbye, and I’ll never get to because he’s going to fuckin’ die out there. And Heather and the baby are gonna kill Will, and then how does that leave me? What’s my poison?”

“You don’t have to have a poison, Jesus,” Jimmy said. All the condescension was gone, he seemed genuine. His tone was soft, gentle, almost like he hurt  _ for _ Johnny. Johnny didn’t like being pitied, but he really could use a little bit of comforting right now. “You can survive. I know what it’s like to lose friends, and it feels like the end of the world – but I promise you it’s not.”   
  
Johnny ran his hands over the tops of his pants, trying to ignore the fact that they were shaking. Trying to ignore the fact that each second was making it harder to breathe, like his throat was closing in on itself more and more the longer that he sat there. “Saint, you don’t even understand. I’ve  _ never _ been alone before. Will’s been there my entire goddamned life, and he couldn’t even make it on the bus with me. I haven’t even spent a fuckin’  _ second _ without Will being any more than ten minutes away, and now he’s hours away. And– And Tunny’s been there since me and Will were ten, and he just left me too. I’m all alone out here. I’m gonna fuckin’ die and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

One of Jimmy’s hands landed on top of Johnny’s. Jimmy’s were paler, were longer and more slender and colder and courser. He patted Johnny’s hand. “You’re not alone anymore, Jesus. You have me now. Alright? So don’t go dying on me.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t. But I see myself in you. I didn’t grow up here, I moved here. I was even younger than you are, and I came all by my lonesome. I was unbelievably alone and scared too – but look at me now.”

And Johnny did. He looked at Jimmy. Clearly, whatever Jimmy had done had worked. He seemed like he was more than just surviving out here. So Johnny nodded. “Alright,” he said. “Could you, uh… Help me find my way back to my motel? I don’t know where I am.”

Jimmy laughed at him. “Why don’t you come with me for the night? My apartment is way nicer than any motel around here, and it’s too late to go around trying to find it. Ever ridden on the back of a motorcycle before?”

He hadn’t. Jimmy let him wear the helmet. 


	8. E I G H T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was he lazy? Or was he just depressed? He didn’t like either option.

The postcards and letters were coming in few and far between. Will should’ve expected it. Johnny and Tunny were in the big city now, they wouldn’t have the  _ time _ to sit down and write to him. It made sense, despite how much it hurt, until he sat there and really thought about it. 

They didn’t have time to write, but surely they had enough time to send more than a few texts (if that) and return a call or two. And, hell, last time he heard anything from Johnny, Tunny was apparently staying at their motel room more often than not. If he was just hanging out, why couldn’t he send anything? It was thoughts like this that caused a downward spiral, and before Will knew it he was either mid-panic-attack, drunk, high, or some mix of all of the above. 

“They’re probably just busy,” Heather told him, slowly flopping down on the couch seat next to him. She was really pregnant. Will lost track of the months, but she was definitely showing. For a little bit of time he’d been in denial, thinking that maybe she made up a lie to get him to stay, but there was no denying anything now. She made a face as she picked up a few empty bottles. “They’ve moved and have never worked a day in their lives. They probably have jobs now, otherwise they’d just be homeless.”

He was sure she didn’t mean for it to – or maybe she did, he didn’t know – but that sent Will into another spiral. What if his friends were homeless? What if they were starving in the streets? Maybe that’s why he didn’t get letters anymore. Maybe that’s why they hardly answered their phones, maybe the phones were dead or they were just trying to conserve battery life. But surely they would have told him if that was the case, right? They knew Will would send them money if he could, right? 

_ What money? _ Tunny’s voice rang out in his head. Years ago, before Will and Heather started dating. When Johnny accused Heather of wanting to get with him for money. It still rang true – they didn’t have much money. Will didn't work. Heather didn’t work. The money they got was sent to them by their families. 

“Speaking of which, I think you should start applying to places,” Heather said. It felt almost like she read his mind, but she was really just continuing off of the idea of Johnny and Tunny now having jobs. “We have enough to survive, but I want our child to do more than just survive. You know? I want them to thrive. I want them to have a better childhood than we did.” 

That finally got a response out of him. “My childhood was fine.” And it was. He spent nearly all of it by Johnny’s side. And after the first ten years, by Tunny’s side, too. They’d done so much as kids. For a group of punk boys from broken homes in Jingletown, they’d had a pretty damn good childhood. 

She gave him a look. “Did you hear me, Will? We need the money.” She was just cutting right to the chase, now. She may as well have said  _ get off your lazy ass and get a job. _

Was he lazy? Or was he just depressed? He didn’t like either option. 

The room fell silent. Heather flipped through the stack of papers she’d brought in from the mailbox. Most of them were things they didn’t want; bills, spam mail, stuff like that. She paused when there was something addressed to Will. She handed it to him, and pushed herself up off the couch to leave the room before he tore into it. 

_ Will, _

_ I’m sure Johnny’s told you by now, but I just wanted to tell you myself. I’m in the military now. I was deployed to the Middle East. Sorry I haven’t written to you yet, I wasn’t doing too hot in the city and I just haven’t had a chance yet since getting deployed. I know that’s not a good excuse, but it’s all I have. I love Johnny, but he just didn’t understand. Now I’m here. I don’t know if I like this either. I love you, too. Take care of yourself, hopefully we’ll be home soon.  _

_ Tunny Clarke. _

Will’s hands shook. Tunny was deployed in the Middle East. For how long? _I’m sure Johnny’s told you_ _by now_ – that had to have meant that Tunny had been out there for a while now, right? But how long? Was he okay? When was this letter sent, and had Tunny died or gotten injured or something since then? 

He could only imagine how Johnny was feeling. Probably pissed, and hurt at the same time. They all knew how Johnny felt about the war, about soldiers and the military. They look knew  _ why, _ too. It wasn’t something they talked about too often, but they knew. It was just one of the many general understandings of their friendship. 

Before Will had much more time to explore the thought of one of his best friends at war, his phone rang – and he jumped at the chance to answer it. 

Johnny started speaking before Will had a chance to say anything. “Will,” he said. “You remember the girl? In the window? I actually finally talked to her. All the communication has been from the window up until now, y’know, me playin’ my guitar for her. She came down. Well, that was a few days ago. Jimmy saw that I was lookin’ at her and he gave me the confidence to talk to her. I think she likes me, Will. And I think– I think I really like her too.”

Will had half a mind to bring up Tunny being at war. Why hadn’t Johnny told him? How long had it been since Johnny knew? But he didn’t. He just wanted to talk to his friend while he could. “Really? That’s nice. That’s good. Who’s Jimmy?”

“Uh– He’s a friend out here. He’s really fuckin’ cool, Will. Everyone worships him,” Johnny was saying, his voice crackly from the static over the phone. There was a slight slur to his words, just a tad – but Will wasn’t surprised. He’d probably been drinking. It wasn’t abnormal. “But the girl. Her name is Rebecca. She thinks I’m cute, said so herself. She’s taking me to a show tonight.”

“Have fun. Hey, Jesus? What about Tunny?”

“Man,  _ fuck _ Tunny. Motherfucker left me alone out here to die. So that  _ he _ can go off and die. But guess what? Jokes on him. I’ve got Jimmy now. I’ve got Jimmy and– eh.. whatsername. Rebecca. I’ve got Jimmy and Rebecca, and  _ I’m _ not gonna fuckin’ die. If he dies, that’s on him.” 

Will knew that Johnny was bluffing. Johnny was just as worried about Tunny as Will himself was, if not moreso. Johnny just wouldn’t admit to it. That’s how he always was – but Will had learned to pick up on the cues that gave him away. Johnny thought he was so good at hiding how he felt about things, but Will could tell the truth even now, when it was their first phone call in at least a month. 

“I’m sure he has a reason for–” Will started, but Johnny interrupted. 

“Oh, god, Will,  _ please _ don’t fucking do that. Please don’t tell me that your dreams have turned red, white and blue too. Don’t do that to me.”

Will took a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. “I’m not saying that, Johnny. You know I feel the same way that you do. You know that,” he assured him, even though it felt like Johnny wasn’t going to have it. “I’m just saying that, even though you and I don’t agree, Tunny has to have a reason for leaving. You know? It’s  _ Tunny, _ he’s never been one to make big decisions without knowing it’s what he wants.”

While that was true, Will wasn’t sure if it was in this situation.  _ I don’t know if I like this either. _ Of course he wouldn’t, it was Tunny. Tunny wasn’t aggressive. Angry, maybe, but he took that out on himself. He wasn’t aggressive, didn’t hurt other people. Tunny wasn’t someone who was meant for a war. If Tunny survived, he’d come back a different man – and Will didn’t know if he wanted to see him like that. 

Honestly, at this point, Will just wanted to talk to Tunny. Physically, over the phone. He wanted a way to hear Tunny’s voice to know he was okay. He could hear Johnny, even if it wasn’t as frequently as he’d like. He could tell that, at least each time he called, Johnny was doing fine. Doing great, even, it sounded. 

“Whatever,” Johnny said, cutting into Will’s thoughts. “I don’t fuckin’ care. I’m pissed off at him. Doesn’t matter though, ‘cause he left me and I’ve replaced him out here. I’ve got Jimmy and the girl. We’re going to a show tonight– well, Jimmy’s not, he doesn’t hang out with us when it’s me and Rebecca. He’s, like, the perfect wingman. And she’s just perfect.”

_ I’ve replaced him.  _ Will wondered if he’s gotten replaced, too. Probably. And if not yet, it was just due to come soon. 

“Ah, shit,” Johnny muttered. “I need to shower. She always scolds me when I don’t. See ya. Love you.”

The line clicked dead. 

“Love you,” Will responded to the air. 


	9. N I N E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stay awake. Yeah, Tunny could do that. Or, so he thought.

Tunny’s letters had been complete lies. He wrote one to each friend, one to Will and one to Johnny, and he’d told bold faces lies in both of them. That he wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not, it being war. He didn’t. He didn’t like it. He hated it. He wasn’t meant to be here. He, clearly, wasn’t the only one who felt that way. 

Sometimes it was okay. On the nights where they sat around and Tunny played his guitar and he and the other soldiers would just talk and shoot the shit, it was okay. Ben, Josh and Chase quickly became Tunny’s friends – though it wasn’t a friendship similar to the one he had with Will and Johnny, it was welcomed, because Tunny had walked into this completely alone. 

Josh was bright eyed and innocent. At least, that’s how he’d come in. War had already taken a toll on him, and they hadn’t even been gone for too long. A month, maybe. Chase was hopeful. Not innocent, he knew the truths to war, but he was hopeful that it would get easier. So far, it proved that it wouldn’t get easier at all. Ben seemed resigned to it all. He knew it wasn’t good. He knew it wouldn’t get better. He was just here because he was. Tunny was… well, Tunny didn’t  _ know _ what he was. He supposed that he had come in like Josh did, but now he was starting to relate more to a mix of Chase and Ben, but admittedly a little more afraid. 

“I don’t want to die,” Josh said one night. 

Tunny stopped strumming. 

“I don’t think any of us do,” Ben pointed out. “But that’s not really up to us.”

Chase cleared his throat, then gestured to Tunny’s guitar with his water bottle. “Can you play  _ Wonderwall?” _

The comment made Tunny and Ben chuckle, but Josh didn’t seem to find it as funny. Chase coped with humor. Tunny could appreciate it. Within the first few days of deployment, Ben had seemed annoyed by it – but by now, he tended to joke back, too. Josh, however, was too in his head with fear and nerves to let the humor calm him down for the moment. 

Josh made Tunny even more nervous. Obviously, Tunny was starting to regret his decisions – but Josh’s verbal worries made it even more difficult to try and pretend that everything would be okay. Because yeah, Tunny didn’t want to die either. It was easier to ignore in moments like this, because they weren’t on the battlefield. In this particular time and place, they were fine. They were sitting around and playing guitar and talking with friends – and it reminded him, almost, of what he used to do with friends back in Jingletown. 

Most of his new friends hadn’t even so much as heard of Jingletown. “Clarke, you’re on something,” Chase had said, when Tunny insisted that Jingletown was indeed a real place. They all teased him about it, but Tunny didn’t mind. “A guy named  _ Tunny _ from a place named  _ Jingletown. _ Are you sure you’re even real?”

Moments like that were good. In moments like that, it was easier for Tunny to forget that he was at war. That he abandoned his two best friends in the entire world to fight their own wars. 

And there were other moments. 

Moments when Tunny was crouched, hidden behind whatever he could find. A gun held tightly in his shaking hands, bullets flying through the air in all ways imaginable. In moments like this, Tunny sometimes considered the idea of dropping his gun and just walking into someone’s line of fire. He wouldn’t do that – he didn’t want to die, and he knew it would be awful on his friends at home (though only one of them was now at home) to get a letter telling them that their best friend had died. It was just that sometimes, it got so damn hard that Tunny felt like it would be easier if it was just over. 

He hadn’t shot his gun more than ten times in the entire month he’d been deployed. Those ten times were only because people were looking at him, and he didn’t have much of a choice. He couldn’t stand it here, but he couldn’t stand it anywhere else, either. 

Despite the idea of dropping his gun and surrendering sounding appealing, Tunny didn’t intend to do it. But then he heard Josh scream and was able to look long enough to see blood splatter and watch him start to fall. Tunny dropped his weapon and recalled his high-school-track-star phase for long enough to make a beeline through the field to where the smaller man now lay – only to be brought down himself before he could even get there. 

At first, he didn’t know what happened. Did he trip? Over what? The adrenaline only lasted for so long before Tunny, too, was in unbearable pain. He couldn’t stop himself from crying out, grabbing for his leg, Josh being forgotten at least in the moment. He didn’t know how long he laid there, white hot pain surging from his leg to his entire body. It was almost bad enough to make him cry, and Tunny didn’t cry. 

He didn’t know how long he’d laid there, one hand holding his leg and the other over his face, as if his hand was enough to shield himself from being shot again. Despite him lying in the open, he wasn’t hit anymore. He didn’t know how long it was until Ben and Chase came after him, one on either side, and hoisted him up. 

“Josh was…” Tunny tried, but his voice came out rough and strained and pained, and he winced as his injured leg dragged along. 

“We know,” Chase said, his own voice equal parts comforting and panicked. “Libby got him. Just stay awake for me.”

Stay awake. Yeah, Tunny could do that. 

———

Or, he thought he could, until he woke up in a hospital room in a gurney next to three other men. 

He didn’t feel any pain, at least not in the moment. In the moment, he felt like his mind was in a haze – probably painkillers, he realized. He couldn’t feel his leg at all. Again, probably the painkillers. He glanced to his side, at the other men who were next to him, and felt his thoughts sober up when he realized who the three other men were. Chase, Ben, and Josh. Out of the three of them, Josh looked to be in the worst shape. All three of them were asleep. Tunny wondered if it was his own fault that Ben and Chase were here, too. He let out a shaky sigh and closed his eyes.

There were voices in the distance, mostly women. Tunny couldn’t make out what they were saying at first, but they were coming closer. Right when the voices were in Tunny’s earshot, the conversation stopped. He opened his eyes, and tried to shift to see who was talking. 

“Woah, don’t move around too much,” one of the women said. They were nurses. The other three tended to the other three men, while she walked up to Tunny’s bed. “How are you feeling?”

Tunny stared at her. In his novocaine and ketamine induced haze, the only thoughts in his mind now were how pretty his nurse was. So, he told her. “You’re really pretty.”

She laughed at him, and the sound made Tunny’s heart flutter. “Thanks. You’re cute too,” she said, with a light and playful poke to the tip of his nose. He missed it completely, but her coworkers were laughing at them, too. “How are you? Any pain or discomfort?” Her voice was soft and smooth and Tunny felt more comfortable around her than he’d felt around anyone in a long time. 

Tunny shook his head. He paused for a moment. “I can’t feel my leg,” he told her.

She nodded, her hand coming up to rest on his shoulder. “You were shot. The bullet was lodged, and the only safe way to remove it, unfortunately, was to amputate just above the knee.” 

“You mean, it’s… gone?” He asked. She nodded again, her hand rubbing his shoulder as reassuringly as she could. 

It was nearly impossible to keep someone from being upset after being told news like that – but that wasn’t what the nurse was trying to do. She encouraged him to be upset, and even told him that it was completely okay to grieve, that he was allowed to cry. Despite that, he didn’t. He wanted to, but he didn’t. She told him that he was allowed to, that no one would say or think anything of it, and she told him that he was strong. He didn’t feel strong. 

She sat in there with him for hours. The other nurses left, and took the gurneys that his friends laid on with them. “Will they be okay?” Tunny asked her. 

“We think so,” she said. “And you will be, too. In about two weeks, we’ll get you fitted for a prosthetic and we’ll work on physical therapy and you’ll be back to normal in no time.”

Back to normal. In two weeks. Tunny felt rather doubtful, but he was always more of a pessimist. At least she was his personal nurse, she was the little ounce of positivity that he needed in his life. Especially now.


	10. T E N

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy didn’t understand. Or maybe he did, but he didn’t care. Or maybe he did, but it was caring in the way that he shouldn’t.

Jimmy took a lot of Johnny’s firsts in just a month of knowing each other. The first guy he ever had sex with. The first  _ person _ he ever had sex with, really. Jimmy would’ve been his first kiss, too, if it weren’t for the time that Johnny and Will jokingly decided that they wanted to be each other’s first kiss and then genuinely followed through with it. Jimmy was also the first person to introduce Johnny to something as life altering as drugs. 

“Will it hurt?” Johnny had asked him. 

“What, the needle?” Jimmy returned. Johnny had nodded. “Maybe a little bit, if you don’t like shots. But the aftermath is so worth it.”

And he was right. The drugs numbed things. All of Johnny’s teenage angst and anger and anguish dissipated. All of his anxiety was gone. In fact, if it weren’t for the little white pill Jimmy gave him that first night, Johnny wouldn’t have actually spoken to the girl in the window. It was a drug induced confidence that caused him to finally climb the fire escape to the window and kiss her. She didn’t seem to notice that he was high off of something – that, or she didn’t care. She told him that her name was Rebecca and that she thought he was cute. Johnny personally didn’t remember much of that, but when she met him downstairs the next day, she reminded him. 

She was sweet, kind, and gorgeous. She was also rebellious, dangerous, and punk rock. Johnny couldn’t put into words what she was, but he was drawn to her. And it seemed like she was drawn to him, too. 

Turns out, Rebecca didn’t like the drugs at all. Johnny told her he’d quit them for her. For the most part, he had. Or, well, he was trying. 

Some days would be good, and he’d be fine. On these days, they’d sit on the roof of the apartment building and smoke cigarettes and talk. Or maybe they’d hang out in her apartment and make fun of reality TV. Or maybe she’d put her makeup on, put makeup on Johnny, and drag him out to some club or show or concert. 

Some days, however, weren’t so good. Some days, Johnny would need the drugs to even function. Sometimes he couldn’t get out of bed, sometimes he’d have to roll over and text Jimmy and ask him for help. Sometimes, he’d get a bad high and spend the day hallucinating. On those days, Rebecca would try to help him through it. She’d rub his back and hold him and comfort him and try to help ground him and bring him back to reality. 

After those days, she’d beg him to stop. “Don’t you see?” she’d ask him. “It’s ruining you, Johnny. Can’t you see what it’s doing to you?”

He could. He knew she was right. But he couldn’t stop.

“Don’t you love me, Johnny?” Jimmy asked him.

Johnny was stuck in a conundrum. He hated that word. Love. He didn’t think he knew who he loved, or what he loved – but he did. He loved Rebecca. He loved heroin. He loved Jimmy, even. “I… I need to quit,” he said instead. His throat was dry. His arms itched. His mind swam. He wanted it all to calm down, but the only way he knew how to calm it down was… 

Jimmy took a step closer. “Why? Cause that bitch Whatsername wants you to?”

“Her name is Rebecca.”

“Right. Well,  _ Rebecca _ isn’t going to be here forever. Rebecca is going to be just like your friends. She’s going to leave you.”

That hit home. Johnny tied up and let Jimmy get out his little black baggie of goods. 

  
  


———

“Are you going to leave me?” Johnny asked her one day. 

They were in her apartment. He was sober, by about five hours. They hadn’t spoken much, they let the noise from the television cover the silence. She seemed almost startled when he finally  _ did _ say something, and she furrowed her brows at him. “What?”

“Jimmy said you might leave me.”   
  
It took all of the patience she had to not sigh at the mention of Jimmy. “Johnny, we’ve talked about this. Jimmy is a manipulative liar. He’s just trying to bring you down. He wants you to succumb to drugs, but he knows you won’t do that while I’m still around. Because he knows that I care about you and I want to see you be the best version of yourself possible,” Rebecca said. She scooted in closer and took Johnny’s hands into her own. “I know you think Jimmy’s a friend. I know you don’t like it when I talk badly of him. But I’m only telling you the truth. I know it’s hard, but I wish you’d just drop him.”

Johnny just stared at her. The words she was saying made sense, but there was something in the back of his head that told him not to believe her. That something just so happened to sound exactly like Jimmy.  _ Don’t believe her, _ it said,  _ because if you do, you’ll lose everything all at once. _ He didn’t have a response for her. 

“I’ll help you, you know?” She said. He could hear the desperation and hope and pain in her voice. She never tried to hide anything from him – if Rebecca felt something, she made sure Johnny knew. He knew from all the times he’d seen her yell profanities at cops, the times she laughed unashamedly at one of his stupid jokes, the times she would openly cry over a sad movie they watched together. “Withdrawal is hard. Getting over an addiction is hard. But I’ll help you through it. It’s just that  _ you _ are the one who has the make the first step.”

“How do I do that?” he asked her.

“You have to stop hanging out around Jimmy.”

———

_ “She _ is the enemy, Johnny. Get it through your thick skull.”

Rebecca was sound asleep. She didn’t even know that Johnny was awake – they’d fallen asleep together hours ago. She didn’t know that he was awake, or that it was purely because Jimmy had slipped in through the window, waggling his bag around in Johnny’s face. “She’s not,” Johnny said. He didn’t even know what to believe anymore. “She loves me. And I– ...love her too.” 

Jimmy scoffed. “You hardly know her. And she hardly knows you.”   
  
That wasn’t true. Rebecca had told him a lot. She’d told him about her family, about why she didn’t really talk to them much anymore. She told him about how she grew up here, but on the opposite side of the city. She told him about how she moved to this side for the rebellion, for the chance to be someone and do something. He’d told her a lot, too. He told her about his own family, about how he’d lost his dad when he was seven and how his mom moved on too fast and his step dad was awful. He told her about his friends, Will at home and Tunny at war. He told her about Jingletown, about how he’d been dying to get out for so long and about how he didn’t know how to handle it now that he finally did. They talked. They shared. They laughed. They cried. They loved. 

But Jimmy didn’t understand. Or maybe he did, but he didn’t care. Or maybe he  _ did, _ but it was caring in the way that he shouldn’t. “See?” he said. “You don’t know each other. But us, we know. You know me, Jesus. And I know you. We understand each other.”

But did they? Johnny hadn’t had any late night conversations with Jimmy, aside from the first night they met. It wasn’t anything like what he had with Rebecca. In fact, Johnny knew virtually  _ nothing _ about Jimmy. He tried to say that. “I don’t–”

“Oh, but Johnny, you  _ do. _ You know more about me than anyone could even hope for,” Jimmy said. For a moment, it was almost convincing. “You and me, Jesus, we’re one in the same. We don’t have to do all that talking to know each other. We just know. Isn’t that more meaningful to you?

“Isn’t it more meaningful that we can connect in silence, versus having to discuss? Surely it hurts you to talk about everything. Doesn’t it? Doesn’t it hurt to keep reliving everything? It hurts to talk about how Will left you for a girl, for an unborn child. It hurts how Tunny left you to go to war. It hurts that your friends turned out to never truly  _ be _ friends,” Jimmy spoke, with faux-sympathy practically dripping from his voice. Johnny didn’t pick up on it, he  _ couldn’t,  _ because his hands were shaking and his throat was closing up and he could only focus on how bad it all hurt. “It hurts that your father died. It hurts how your mother doesn’t care. It hurts that your step-father exists. It all hurts. And Rebecca makes you talk about it. She makes it hurt more. But me? You know I wouldn’t do that. We don’t have to talk about it. Because I already know.”

Johnny couldn’t speak. He couldn’t tell Jimmy  _ no, stop _ when he opened the little black bag. Jimmy climbed back out through the window and left him on the floor of the kitchenette in Rebecca’s house, dope making its way through his veins. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if y’all like that i’m uploading so much/quickly or if it’s annoying but i’m going to keep doing it until either someone tells me to stop or until i physically cannot? it’s the adhd, loves. hope you’re enjoying it <3


	11. E L E V E N

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christina understood. She just always seemed to understand. 
> 
> Rebecca could understand it to a point. Now, she was done trying to understand.
> 
> Heather couldn’t understand even if she tried.

Tunny learned that his nurse’s name was Christina. He learned that even though his leg wasn’t there anymore, it could still hurt. Christina told him that those were called phantom pains, that even though they sucked, they were normal. He learned that he might have those for the rest of his life. He also learned that he would be stuck with nightmares, perhaps also for the rest of his life. PTSD, Christina had said. She said that therapy would help, but that there wasn’t really a cure, but that he could possibly get past it on his own anyway. 

“You’re so strong, Tunny,” she told him, as they sat together on the gurney one night. It was hot – he was moved to the hospital building, but they were still in the Middle East, and no matter what they did it couldn’t beat the heat. Despite that, they still sat side by side on the small bed, Christina’s head resting on Tunny’s shoulder. She held his hand in hers, playing with his fingers and tracing the lines on his palm. “I know it might not feel like it, but you are. You’re making so much progress.”

She spent all her time with him. The nurses weren’t assigned to people, they were just sent out when they were needed, but the other doctors and nurses seemed to understand that there was something different here. Something drew Christina in about Tunny, and Tunny could only ever feel even slightly calm when Christina was around. She was the one that saved him, in his mind. She was the one he woke up to, she was the one who let him cry when no one else was around, she was the one who called him strong even in what felt like his weakest moments. She was the one who helped fit him with his new prosthetic, and she was the one who kept helping him work on walking again. She was there. She was always there.

“I have to be,” he’d say.

“No. You don’t,” she’d assure. “You just are. I admire you for that.”

“You admire me for losing my leg?”

She’d laugh and roll her eyes, which made Tunny laugh too. He coped with humor. She understood. “I admire you for  _ how _ you lost your leg. I admire you for not giving up.”

He would pause and think about it for a moment. “You’re the reason why I haven’t given up, I think.”

“You think?”

“I think.”

It would be a good enough answer for her. Tunny wasn’t the best at expressing his feelings, and Christina understood. She just always seemed to understand. She understood on the days that he was too angry to speak or on the days that all he wanted to do was talk to keep himself distracted. She understood in the in betweens. 

Personal relationships were prohibited. Tunny and Christina were developing one. The other nurses kept quiet, even on the night that most of them had seen Christina kiss him. 

  
  


———

Rebecca found Johnny lying on the kitchen floor. At first, she’d worried about him. At first, she started to baby him, started to coddle him and cradle him and tell him that everything would be okay. Then she saw the knife stuck in the wall. Then she saw the note hung up underneath the knife.

_ I never liked you anyway. St. Jimmy rules!  _

That was it. That was the last straw. 

  
She didn’t care that he was high out of his mind. This was the third time in a week that she’d found him in a state, even after every single drawn out conversation about how he was better than this, about how she would help him through it as long as he made the effort to cut Jimmy out of his life. She knew it wasn’t easy to cut someone out, she did. But he’d lied and told her that he would too many times now, and here he was. She could understand it to a point. But now? She was done trying to understand. 

“Get out of my house,” she told him, voice shaking with anger and frustration and, dare she admit it, sadness. She’d loved him. She didn’t want it to end this way, she didn’t want it to end at  _ all _ but he left her no choice. She had tried, but Johnny let it go on for too long. It wouldn’t be over unless she ended it herself. “Get out. We’re done. I can’t take it anymore.”   
  
Johnny had stuttered and stumbled over his words, offering a half-hearted high apology, but she shook her head. She shook her head, and she let him have it.

“You’re not some  _ Jesus. _ You and this Jimmy guy – you aren’t royalty, you aren’t anything worth being celebrated or worshipped. It’s all some made up guise to try and make you feel better about yourselves. To pretend that you can actually survive on your own. If you want to choose drugs, if you want to go down that path, that’s your decision. But I’m not encouraging it anymore. This isn’t you. Wake up, Johnny. And get out of my house.”

She didn’t give him a chance to respond. She helped him pick himself up off of the kitchen floor, then promptly kicked him out and shut the door in his face. Johnny tried knocking, tried a slurred apology and begged for forgiveness, but Rebecca locked the door and turned her stereo up loud enough to drown out any noise he could make. 

———

Will wasn’t there when Heather gave birth to the baby. She had been out with friends when she went into labor. They’d tried calling and texting him. His phone was dead, because of hours and hours of attempted calls to Johnny the night previous. None of them had been answered, but still Will didn’t give up until his phone died. Heather was pissed at him when she got home. Alysha was with her, and she was pissed too. Will supposed he didn’t blame them, and offered a half-hearted apology, but he found that he didn’t have the energy for much else.

They hadn’t really discussed a name. They talked names once, but it had been brief and Will couldn’t even remember any of the suggestions he’d given. Heather told him, shortly, that she’d decided to name their daughter Vivienne and that they could call her Vivi for short since it would be a difficult name for a young child to learn. Will had told her it was a pretty name, but she didn’t offer a response.

He didn’t see the kid often, even though they lived in the same apartment. He held her, once, but Heather took her back after not too long. “She doesn’t need to see you like this,” she told him, gesturing to the beer cans and the bong and the rolling papers. She was a baby, she couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing – but Heather didn’t want her getting used to that kind of environment.

Two weeks later, Alysha came over again and helped Heather pack her things. Will begged her to stay – actually  _ begged _ – but she said that it was too late. Will tried to explain himself, but he couldn't. And Heather couldn’t understand it even if she tried. With the help of Alysha, she packed her bags, packed Vivienne’s bags, and left. 

And then, Will was utterly alone. Tunny hadn’t sent any letters since the very first one. Will had sent five, and had no way of knowing whether they actually got to him or not. Johnny hadn’t contacted him at all. Will had sent over a hundred texts and at least twenty missed calls. They were probably fine. They were probably great, actually. Johnny had his new girlfriend and his new best friend, they were probably still partying all night and sleeping all day like they’d been the last time Johnny had updated him on what he was doing with his life. Tunny had probably made friends in the military, and had probably adapted to like what he was doing out there, whatever it was. 

Or maybe Tunny wasn’t responding because he was dead. And maybe Johnny had died, too. Maybe some kind of freak accident happened, and both of them were dead. And Will would never know. 

It seemed like Will fell into more of a downwards spiral every single day. Every single day, he thought of yet another way things could have gone wrong. He thought about his friends, about how they were all out there without him. About how they were either having the times of their lives, or how they were dead. About how they’d either realized that they didn’t need Will in their lives to have fun, or about how they’d realized that they  _ did _ need Will but had died before they got the chance to come back to him. 

As bad as it sounded, Will almost didn’t know which option he’d prefer. 


	12. T W E L V E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m going to get clean,” he said. 
> 
> The saint laughed at him.
> 
> //tw for a brief mention of suicide at the end of the chapter

The Saint didn’t seem all too surprised when Johnny showed up at his doorstep that night. It was practically impossible to surprise the Saint, though, Johnny had come to realize. Jimmy always seemed to know what was going on. He was never caught off guard. Johnny wondered what it would be like to catch him by surprise. 

“She left me,” Johnny had mumbled. It was almost like he’d forgotten that Jimmy was the one who wrote the note. That Jimmy was the one who injected him with the things that were making him forget. He forgot to be mad at Jimmy, because the drugs were making his head spin and he couldn’t think. 

“Oh, Johnny,” Jimmy had said, with the faux-sympathy that he was entirely too good at. He took Johnny inside, into his own apartment. 

Jimmy’s apartment wasn’t nearly as nice as Rebecca’s. It was the same size, maybe a tad bit smaller, but there was virtually nothing to it. Everything was ratty, there were hardly any decorations, drugs and drug-use supplies laid out on most surfaces they could – except for when Jimmy took them with him, when he would stash them in his little black bag. If anyone in the area saw the saint coming in with his little black bag, they knew they were in for a good night. 

It wasn’t nearly as nice as Rebecca’s, but it was better than nothing. All Johnny had was the old motel room, and he didn’t like being there if he didn’t have to. He didn’t like being alone. Johnny had always been somewhat codependent, always leaning on Will or Tunny for something because he couldn’t do things alone, but it had become so much more apparent since he got to the city. He couldn’t do anything alone. He couldn’t _be_ alone. 

At first, living with Saint Jimmy proved to be okay. Maybe good, even. They didn’t put a label on their relationship, but it felt similar to what he’d had with Rebecca. That, but Jimmy was a little meaner. Johnny didn’t care. He learned to love anyway. He learned that Rebecca was wrong, that he didn’t want to get clean. Until the one night Jimmy left him alone. 

———

Jimmy went out to sell. To make his money, the only way he knew how. As Johnny sat there, alone, on the sheetless bed in the middle of the room, he couldn’t help but to wonder how he got here. How did he turn out like this? 

Johnny was sober at the moment, at least for the most part. Still high enough that he wasn’t experiencing withdrawal too bad yet, but sober enough that he could actually think mostly clearly. He’d lost every bit of his money because of this. All his money, which he didn’t even have much of to begin with, had gone out the window because of the drugs. Yeah, he and Jimmy were together, but Jimmy still made him pay. Drugs weren’t cheap. 

Drugs weren’t cheap, and they were ruining his life. 

It had been almost a year now. He and Tunny had left back in February. Or was it January? Whatever. It was September, now. It had been a long time. All that time had melded together into some kind of inconspicuous mess that Johnny himself couldn’t even sort out. He sat there in his half high, half sober daze and made the decision then. He was done. The girl, he couldn’t remember her name anymore, was right. 

It was time to wake up. 

She left him in the summer. She told him to get clean in the summer. He didn’t listen. He wished he had. Now that he was willing to listen, she was long gone. 

Johnny wondered if Jimmy knew he was going to pull this again. It wouldn’t be the first time – but the last times all ended in the withdrawal symptoms making Johnny want to die too much, which led into another relapse. It was a never ending cycle, but he was actually determined this time. 

The dog tags weighed heavy around his neck, against his chest. The dog tags that laid against his chest this whole time. He almost forgot they were there. It had been twelve years now. Almost thirteen. Johnny used to be mad at his dad for leaving, but he wasn’t anymore. Or maybe he still was. His dad just had to go out and go to war. He just had to get shot. He just had to die. Johnny wondered if he would still be here if his dad was alive. What would he be doing right now if his dad, and not Brad, who raised him? 

It didn’t matter. He spent too much time pondering the what-ifs. The what-ifs didn’t matter. He needed to focus on now. 

“You’re thinking awfully loudly,” Jimmy’s voice came from the front door. 

Johnny hadn’t heard him come in. Still, the sudden voice didn't startle him like it shouldn’t. After some of the things Jimmy had done, it felt like it was hard to startle Johnny now. Or maybe it was too easy. Johnny didn’t know. “I’m going to get clean,” he said. 

The saint laughed at him. 

No, wait, he wasn’t a saint. That was Johnny’s first mistake – blindly trusting Jimmy just because he claimed to be a saint, just because the other city rat druggies said he was. He thought back to what the girl – Whatsername – said. He wasn’t Jesus. Jimmy wasn’t a saint. They were just ordinary people who wanted to feel better about themselves and pretend that they weren’t killing themselves by the second every time they used and abused. 

“I am,” Johnny said. “I’m getting clean. I’m not doing this anymore, Jimmy. This is gonna kill me.”

“Baby, you’re going to die anyway,” Jimmy returned. He stepped forward until he was face to face with Johnny. It took all of Johnny’s willpower not to cower, not to give in and submit to his urges and to Jimmy once again. “You can’t survive out there. Not without me. You can’t survive without me there to help make it better.”

Despite how much he tried, Johnny melted under the hand that cupped his cheek. Jimmy was a master manipulator. He knew every tactic in the book, and that’s what made Johnny fall. That’s why Johnny had stayed so long without seeing that this relationship was killing him faster and more dangerously than the actual drugs themselves were. He took a deep breath and a step back. “I can,” he told him, “and I will.”

Jimmy’s hand retracted. He shook his head. “You’ll be back. I know you, Johnny boy. You _can’t_ leave me. You love the feeling too much. You love _me_ too much.”

Maybe that’s why it hurt so much. “I do love you,” Johnny said. “But I have to get clean.”

And then he left. Johnny left that apartment, and he didn’t return. 

———

A week later, he saw the news. A body found in the bay. Johnny identified the gun that was used to end it all – it was the same gun that Jimmy had been waving around at Johnny just two weeks ago. He went in long enough to tell the police and detectives who Jimmy was, then went back to the motel room he called home long enough to grab his guitar and check out. 

He was getting sober. He sold his guitar for a bus ticket. 


	13. T H I R T E E N

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tunny was coming home.   
> Will was getting sober.

“We’re gonna be home before Thanksgiving,” Christina said. 

Tunny never cared much for Thanksgiving – if anything, he celebrated what they called ‘Friendsgiving,’ which was just him, Will and Johnny getting a bigger haul than usual from 7-Eleven and doing what they usually did. But Christina liked the holiday. She told him that Thanksgiving and Christmas were her favorites, because her parents were amazing cooks and they really showed off for those particular holidays. When he told her that his family didn’t really celebrate, she told him that she’d take him back to her place and show him what the holidays should  _ really _ be like. 

They were getting ready to board the plane back home. Home, as in Jingletown. That’s where Tunny wanted to go. Christina insisted that she come along, and he was grateful – he wasn’t sure he wanted to go alone. 

“Are you sure your family will want me there?” Tunny asked. 

He stood still on his prosthetic, a crutch held at his side. He was doing well, for the most part. Still, it was early, and he wasn’t supposed to be putting too much pressure on it just yet, even though he’d rather be inconspicuous about it. 

Christina took Tunny’s free hand in her own. “Of course. I’ve been writing to them, they already know about you. They already  _ love _ you.”

They’d made their relationship official just a few weeks ago, but their feelings had been present practically since first sight. The other field nurses were the only ones who knew, since it wasn’t exactly allowed. The nurses, and Chase, Ben and Josh, because Tunny trusted them not to tell anyone. 

“You’re being quiet. What’s up?” Christina asked him for a moment. Tunny never was incredibly talkative, but he was never this quiet, either. 

He offered a half shrug. “I guess I’m nervous.”

“To go home?”

“I abandoned my two best friends in the entire world. I haven’t talked to either of them since. I don’t know if they’re going to want to see me again… And if they do, everything’s gonna be different. Because of the betrayal and shit. And because of my leg, because I can't do the things I used to anymore.”

Christina leaned up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “That’s the miraculous thing about best friends,” she told him. “They’ll forgive you. They’ll understand. If they’re really your best friends – and it sounds like they are from what you’ve told me about them – it’ll be okay. It might take some time, but they’ll hear you out. You’ll be able to catch up, and things will be back to normal in no time.”

He didn’t have a chance to respond before they boarded the plane. No turning back now. He was coming home. 

———

Heather already had a new boyfriend. Maybe Will really  _ was _ that easily replaceable. She brought him by, once, and claimed that she forgot something she meant to take with her but he figured that it was just to flaunt her man. 

His name was Miguel. He was scary, but in a way that Will felt almost jealous of him. Scary, but also incredibly soft and kind when it came to Heather. He shook Will’s hand, to Will’s surprise. 

Will had started going to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings shortly after Heather first left him. That was June. It was September now. He’d been clean for about two and a half months now. He had his golden sobriety coin, which he produced from a pocket to show to Heather. She told him that once he could get to the green chip, the next one up, he could start seeing Vivienne again. 

Miguel actually congratulated him. “It’s hard, man,” he said. “Kudos.” Heather didn’t seem to appreciate the comment, but didn’t say anything otherwise. 

If anything, Will supposed that he was glad for Miguel’s existence, even if it hurt to see Heather happy with someone new so quickly. He knew it was bound to come – he and Heather just didn’t mesh. They didn’t work. That was okay, he’d come to realize. Heather was happy. Miguel was happy. Vivienne would have a stable father figure, because god knows that Will would be lucky enough to even just see her on weekends. 

It hurt, yes, but that was okay. Sometimes even the good things hurt. Will learned that when he started his path to sobriety. The first month hadn’t been easy at all. He’d almost relapsed more often than he wanted to admit. But he  _ didn’t, _ and that’s what counted. 

He had to keep reminding himself that he was doing it for his daughter. For himself, too, but it was an easier motivator to do it for someone else. He was doing it for Vivi, who was only about three months old and didn’t know what was going on. Vivi, who couldn’t even crawl yet. Will was doing it all for her. He never pictured himself wanting to be a dad, but now that he was doing more than survive each day, he was able to recognize that it was something he wanted. He wanted to be a dad, and he wanted to be a good one. He wanted to have his weekends with his baby. He wanted to love her, and he wanted her to grow up and love him too. He wanted to be there, he wanted to be a better father figure than he and any of his other friends knew, because they knew what it was like to have a bad father. He didn’t want Vivienne to know what that was like. 

So, for her, he was getting sober. 


	14. F O U R T E E N

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will didn’t expect to look outside the 7-Eleven window to see Johnny practically wailing on Tunny. He’d learned in the past year to get better at expecting the unexpected.

Jingletown. Johnny never thought he’d be happy to be back. Really,  _ happy _ wasn’t the word he’d used to describe it. 

The bus ride had been boring and lonely, and Johnny found himself riddled with an overwhelming sense of anxiety that he’s never quite felt before. He chose to blame it on the drugs, on the fact that he was hardly even three weeks clean, on the fact that sometimes he’d feel decent but then the withdrawal would hit him on the back of the head or in the heart or  _ somewhere _ and leave him curled up, shaking, crying, and on the verge of vomiting. 

It could also be that he was anxious about what he’d be coming home to. Brad was undoubtedly going to be pissed at him – he’d only sent two letters to his mom, one of which was telling her that he did drugs for the first time and the other one telling her that he’d amounted to nothing, just like Brad always told him he would. Will was probably going to be pissed, too. Rightfully so, Johnny supposed. 

He wondered how Will and Heather and their baby were doing. Johnny had lost his phone on one of the nights out with Jimmy; maybe Will had texted him all about it. Johnny would never know. Not until he got back. Not unless Will was willing to talk to him again to tell him. 

Jingletown was the exact same as he had first left it. The bus dropped him off at the station and he walked, empty handed, to the 7-Eleven. That was his first stop. He had about two dollars left to his name, and the only thing he could really think to use it on was a Slurpee. Because, god, he hasn’t had one in ages and he figured that it was only reasonable since that’s about all you could get in Jingletown, anyway. 

What he didn’t expect to see, however, was Tunny getting out of a taxi right outside of the 7-Eleven as he approached it. Tunny, dressed in his military uniform, using a crutch to help stabilize himself. 

———

“The place is a dump,” he told Christina, watching her look out the window. “You don’t even have to pretend. There isn’t any scenery here for you to look at.”

She laughed and swatted at his arm. “I think it’s kinda cute,” she responded, giving him a big smile. “I think it’s cute that our stop off is a 7-Eleven. I like small towns.”

Tunny scoffed, but he was grinning, too, despite his nerves eating a hole in his stomach. “Right, well, you’re going to think this place is  _ really _ adorable.” There was still something nice about the idea of her being interested in him and his hometown, even if it was the most boring thing in the world. Even if she was just pretending, it was still nice – but she was genuine. She was always genuine. 

The cab had driven them all the way from the airport that was a few towns over. Tunny had lived in Jingletown his whole life and didn’t even know that cabs would drive out here. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that both he and Christina were dressed in their uniforms, and because Tunny was walking with his crutch. He bet that, under any other circumstances, they wouldn’t have gotten a ride this far. They would’ve had to take the bus. 

They paid the driver once they pulled up to the familiar, run down convenience store. Tunny got out first, and he only had enough time to take a few steps forward so that Christina could follow him out before he made eye contact with Johnny. 

Johnny looked different. He held himself differently. And as soon as he saw Tunny, he looked pissed. “Fuck you,” he said, as soon as the cab drove away. His voice shook.

Tunny didn’t miss the look of confusion and worry from Christina, who now stood at his side. He didn’t have time to explain to her that this was Johnny, that Johnny was the one who lost his father to a war. Johnny was coming at him, and Tunny put a bit more weight on his crutch to brace himself for impact. 

_ “Fuck _ you,” Johnny said, with more force. He shoved Tunny back, once, twice, and Tunny was prepared for another hit but it didn’t come. 

———

Will didn’t expect to look outside the 7-Eleven window to see Johnny practically wailing on Tunny. He’d learned in the past year to get better at expecting the unexpected. He dropped the bag of chips he’d been planning on buying and made a beeline for the door, grabbing Johnny from behind and pulling him back. “Johnny, stop.”

“Let me go! Goddamn it, let me fuckin’... Let me fuckin’ go.” Johnny had started out strong. He’d started out strong enough that Will struggled to even keep his arms around him – but then he crumbled. The rage-filled bravado dissipated into the air, and Will could almost instantly see all the pain and hurt that Johnny had been trying to mask. He kept his arms around Johnny, and after a few seconds of fighting it, Johnny gave in and wrapped his arms around Will. They hugged, and Tunny just stood there. 

Once Johnny gathered himself, at least as much as he could in the moment, Johnny stepped away from Will and threw himself at Tunny again – this time in the form of a hug. “Fuck you,” Johnny said again, but this time there wasn’t any anger behind it. “I thought you were gonna fuckin’ die out there. Asshole.”

“I know,” Tunny muttered, giving him a one-armed-hug in response – he still had to use his crutch to avoid swaying and falling over. He still wasn’t as stable as he’d like to be. “I’m sorry.”

Will took a deep breath as he watched his two best friends hug each other. They were back. He noticed the crutch that Tunny held, and he noticed the way that Johnny seemed way more emotional than he’s ever been. They were different, they’d been through some shit, but they were back. Johnny and Tunny were back. He couldn’t hold himself back from stepping forwards and wrapping his arms around both of them, for as much of a group hug as they could manage. 

Things could get better again.


	15. F I F T E E N

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That childlike mischief that he’s always had, that he never grew out of, was gone. It seemed like there was a dark hole where that once used to be.

Things already started to settle into some form of normalcy. They talked and tried to catch up over dinner. Tunny told them about being in the military, about the guys he’d met there, about how he met Christina. Will told them that he and Heather broke up, that their baby was named Vivienne and that he was allowed to start seeing her more regularly starting sometime next month – he’d shown them his sobriety coin, too, and said that he’d given up alcohol entirely. Tunny teased him a little, about how they all knew he’d never give up weed, and Will laughed as he admitted that he was right. Johnny didn’t have much to say. He sat there and listened, and when it came his turn, he shrugged. “Lots of stuff happened,” he said. “I don’t even remember it all. It was a lot. I just decided I wasn’t ready for the city yet, I guess.”

They all knew there was something more to it. Even Christina, who had only known Johnny for about an hour at the time, was skeptical. They knew he wasn’t telling an entire truth, but none of them dared to ask or push on, because it seemed that even now, Johnny was barely hanging on by a thread. 

He’d smile or laugh whenever Tunny or Will cracked jokes, but there was something missing. That childlike mischief that he’s always had, that he never grew out of, was gone. It seemed like there was a dark hole where that once used to be. 

Tunny and Christina left first. They were tired after the flight, which was understandable. Tunny’s mom came to pick them up, since he shouldn’t be walking long distances like that. Typically it wouldn’t be a big deal, but on only one real leg, Christina insisted they get a ride and Tunny’s mom was happy to provide (now that he had a steady girlfriend). Will had offered to take him home, now that he had his own vehicle, but Tunny waved him off. 

That left Will and Johnny. They left the old diner, and Johnny pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He’d stolen them from Jimmy a while back, but never got around to using them because, back then, he had drugs. Now he didn’t, and his hands were shaking and his mind was going crazy and he needed  _ something.  _

“What happened to you, Jesus?” Will asked, once they were alone. 

It was late. Johnny didn’t know what time it was, but it was dark. He was tired too, but also somehow full of energy. Like he couldn’t stop moving. He realized that it was the first time he hadn’t been medicated under the influence of some kind of drug in forever – even before he left for the city, he was always taking ritalin because his doctor prescribed it when he was little. ADHD, the doctors said. Whatever. Johnny didn’t even have any of that anymore, and if he was being honest, he was almost afraid to take it. 

“Nothing,” he insisted. He paused, then offered a shrug. “A lot, I guess, but I don’t remember it.”

Will leaned against the building. “I’m not going to judge you, you know? I mean, look at me. I’m a recovering alcoholic. It was so bad that I’m afraid to even drink one sip because I don’t want to relapse.”

“You’re recovered, though. For the most part. You’re recovered,” Johnny said. 

“I’m  _ recovering. _ I’m not recovered. It’s only been two months,” Will responded. Johnny’s response did raise a bunch of questions in his mind, though. “Did you go through something similar?”

Johnny didn’t answer. He took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke into the cold September night air. They stood there in silence for a little while. “Can I crash at your place, at least for tonight?” he asked, breaking the silence once his cigarette was out. “I really don’t want to go home. Brad’ll kill me if he finds out I’m back.”

Will nodded, “Of course. You can stay as long as you want. Heather and Vivienne have been gone for months but it still feels weird as hell to have the apartment all to myself.” He wasn’t willing to admit that it would also be comforting to wake up with Johnny in the same apartment as him, so that he wouldn’t have to worry about the idea of Johnny running off again. 

The ride to Will’s apartment was silent. Will turned on the radio halfway through, because it felt weird. Silence around Johnny had never been weird before. Things had changed.  _ Johnny _ had changed. Something that happened in the city fucked him up in ways that Will worried he’d never learn, and now he felt helpless because there wasn’t anything he could do to help if he didn’t know what Johnny needed help with. 

Will’s apartment wasn’t like what it used to be. It was clean. It didn’t smell like weed and beer anymore. Well, okay, there was still a slight, lingering scent of weed – but it wasn’t anything like when Johnny was there to help contribute to it. It wasn’t anything like when all three of them would knock back beers until either they were gone or until all three of them were shitfaced. Will had changed, too. 

“I’ll just sleep on the couch,” Johnny muttered as Will shut and locked the door. 

Will was quick to shut that down, though. “No. Nuh-uh, not happening,” he said. “My bed is big enough for the two of us, you know that. You, me  _ and _ Tunny used to sleep in it together sometimes. And my room is actually clean now, I’ve gotten better at keeping things clean.”

Johnny was hesitant. Will had never seen him actually  _ hesitant _ before. That was weird. “Are you sure?”

“Of course, Jesus. I know we haven’t talked in forever, but things haven’t changed between us. Okay?” 

“Okay,” he muttered. “I’m not Jesus anymore, though. Not anymore. Just Johnny.”

Will raised his eyebrows, but nodded his head. “Okay.”

Johnny didn’t have any pajamas. In fact, he hadn’t brought  _ any _ of his clothes back with him. Will asked, again, what happened – and Johnny didn’t give an answer. So, for at least the night, Will let Johnny wear his own clothes. It wasn’t like this was the first time they’d shared clothes. Johnny used to steal hoodies and sweatshirts from him all the time, because they were always a few sizes too big due to their height difference and Johnny thought they were more comfortable. 

That’s what he wore to bed. A pair of underwear and one of Will’s hoodies. It was old and ratty, with cigarette burns in different parts of it, but Johnny insisted he wear that one so Will let him. Johnny didn’t let Will see him change. Again, it wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other shirtless before – they went swimming in the lake every summer, all three of them. Johnny had openly taken a shower with Will in the same room before, too. Will decided against questioning him this time. 

Will didn’t have any troubles falling asleep, now that Johnny was at his side again, now that things felt like they could start going back to normal. Johnny, however, laid awake and stared at the ceiling. 


	16. S I X T E E N

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy cooed at him, tracing the gun down Johnny’s cheek and jaw, leaving it to rest right underneath his chin. “Poor Jesus. Afraid to die.”
> 
> //tw for suicide

_ The temperature itself was cold. It was September, after all. The temperature was cold, but not unbearably so. The wind, however, brought in a breeze that was cold enough to chill someone to the bones. Johnny was stood out by the bay, at the edge of the dock. Jimmy had taken him here a few times, because it was a nice place to get high and hallucinate for a while in the summer. But it wasn’t the summer anymore. It was September, and Jimmy hadn’t accompanied him. In fact, Johnny didn’t even remember coming here. It was too cold. He wasn’t even sure if he knew how to get here on his own – any time he’d come, he’d been blindly following behind Jimmy.  _

_ He was alone. He was sober. The bay really was beautiful, he hadn’t had the chance to take in its beauty in real time. All the other times he’d been high off his ass, running around and yelling or hallucinating or just not taking anything in. Now that he was sober, it was actually nice. Gorgeous. If it weren’t so cold, Johnny probably would’ve considered staying a while. _

_ But it was cold. It was cold, and he wasn’t sure how to get back, and he didn’t want to be alone.  _

_ Johnny turned around, away from the water, but paused when he found himself face to face with Jimmy. “Saint?” he asked, in a hushed whisper. Jimmy wasn’t a saint. Johnny knew that. Jimmy was no saint, and he was no Jesus. In fact, Jimmy was dead.  _

_ “Oh, so now I’m your saint?” Jimmy asked him. He took a step forward, and Johnny took one back. “Aw, are you scared? Scared of what, Johnny? Scared that they’ll find out that you’re the one who killed me?” _

_ “I didn’t. I didn’t kill you,” he shook his head. He didn’t. Johnny had never so much as even  _ touched _ that gun. Jimmy was the one who waved it around, threatened Johnny with it, threatened himself with it, and then ended up shooting himself with it in the end anyway.  _

_ Jimmy laughed. There was no humor behind it. Instead, it was angry. Angry, and sad. “Maybe not physically. Maybe you didn’t touch that gun. But it’s your fault.” _

_ “I didn’t–” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “If you hadn’t  _ left _ me, Johnny boy. If you hadn’t left me, I’d still be alive.”  _

_ He was dreaming. He was just dreaming. But the scary thing was that Johnny didn’t remember even falling asleep. When did he fall asleep? He was just dreaming, right? _

_ Jimmy produced the gun from one of the pockets of his jacket. He pressed it against Johnny’s temple, and Johnny could feel the cold, hard steel like it was real. “Does this feel like a dream to you?” _

_ Johnny couldn’t speak. He could only shake his head. No, it didn’t feel like a dream. It felt real. Johnny was about to die. _

_ Jimmy’s fingers toyed at the trigger. Johnny trembled underneath the barrel of the gun, eyes squeezed shut tightly. He didn’t want to die. Living was hard sometimes, so incredibly hard, but that didn’t mean he wanted to die. Jimmy cooed at him, tracing the gun down Johnny’s cheek and jaw, leaving it to rest right underneath his chin. “Poor Jesus,” he murmured, fake sympathy dripping like venom. Johnny could feel it in his gut. “Afraid to die. You really think you’re Jesus? You really think you could live up to standards like that? Jesus wasn’t scared. Was he? He wasn’t scared when he got crucified. A little bullet through the skull would hurt way less. And you’re scared.” _

_ Johnny knew he wasn’t Jesus. And he knew that he was scared. He knew that he wasn’t going to live up to anything, that he’d never have a chance. Hell, even if there  _ was _ a chance for him to do something worthwhile in his life, that was all gone now.  _

_ “Think,” Jimmy told him. “You were completely willing to lose your life to drugs, weren’t you? Until Whatsername came around. I told you she’d leave you. And you didn’t believe me. She did. She left you.” _

_ “That’s– That’s your fault,” Johnny managed to stammer out, between shaky breaths, behind veiled attempts not to cry. _

_ But the saint saw right through him. “You’re going to cry? Really? Pathetic. No wonder she left you–” _

_ “Just shoot me already!” Johnny blurted. “If– If that’s what you’re going to do, then do it. Just kill me. I’m going to die anyway. I deserve to die anyway.” _

_ Silence. The sound of the wind brushing through trees and the sounds of the water sloshing below them stopped, too. The world stood still. Silent. A few tears dropped down Johnny’s face.  _

_ “That’s right,” Jimmy said. He was smiling. “You are going to die. And that’s why I’m going to leave that up to you.” _

_ Jimmy pulled the gun back. He positioned it under his own chin, fingered the trigger, and shot.  _

  
  


Johnny woke up screaming. Will was at his side in seconds, but Johnny didn’t register it at first. It wasn’t cold anymore. It was warm, Johnny felt like he was burning up, yet he was covered in a cold sweat. He was shivering, shaking, and he couldn’t stop the broken sobs that wracked his body. He felt like he was going to pass out or throw up or both, but neither one of them came. 

“Johnny, Johnny, hey,” Will’s voice finally broke through his racing thoughts, and Johnny let Will take him into his arms. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

He didn’t know how long he cried. He didn’t know how long Will held him, rocked him, rubbed his back. But he did know that he was absolutely exhausted again once he managed to catch his breath. Johnny hated crying. He wasn’t a huge crier – and even when he did, it was something he did when he was alone. Crying was something that should be done in private. Maybe he thought that because the last time he’d been caught crying, Brad had berated him and ‘gave him something to cry about.’ 

Will wasn’t Brad, though. In fact, Will didn’t comment at all. He held and rocked Johnny until he’d calmed down, for the most part. Once Johnny had caught his breath, Will brushed some of the sweaty hair off of his forehead. “Why don’t you go take a shower? I’ll go make us some tea.”

Johnny could almost laugh. Will, making them tea. Not grabbing a beer, not grabbing a bong. Making tea. But he didn’t have the energy to do anything but nod, so that’s what he did. Will provided him with a new hoodie and a pair of sweats – these in better shape than the hoodie Johnny had fallen asleep in, and then disappeared into the kitchen to make tea.

He hated showering, but this one was actually refreshing. He had to use Will’s soap and shampoo, but that was okay. At least he smelled like something other than the cheap motel soap or the super strong stuff that Jimmy had kept at his place. Will’s stuff was nice – lightly scented, simply clean smelling, perhaps with a slight woodsy undertone. Johnny didn’t bother to read the scent on the label, but it was a nice change. 

When Johnny stepped into the kitchen, he was surprised to see that Will had pulled out an actual kettle. “Did you turn into a grandmother while I was gone?” he asked, ignoring the fact that his voice was still rough from all the crying. 

The sudden question interrupting the silence had startled Will, but he recovered quickly with an awkward smile and a chuckle. “More like a recovering alcoholic with a newfound appreciation for tea, but you can call me a grandmother if it floats your boat,” he joked back. “I’ve got Green, Oolong, Earl Grey, and Chamomile. Preference?”

“You throw those words at me like I have any clue what you’re talking about,” Johnny mumbled, dropping himself down at one of the stools at the island. “Surprise me. But put some sugar in there or something, because most teas are nasty.”

Will rolled his eyes playfully, but obliged. He picked a tea, and Johnny didn’t have even half of a clue what kind it was but he didn’t really care either. After a few minutes of steeping, or whatever Will called it, Johnny was handed a cup of tea and a few sugar cubes. “What, you don’t like it?” he asked, when Johnny scrunched up his nose after taking a sip.

“You’re telling me that you genuinely drink this shit? You didn’t even put sugar in yours.”   
  
Will shrugged. “It helps me sleep sometimes. And if anything, it’s better for me than beer. I’d rather end up addicted to something like tea, because at least it’s healthy.”

“Huh,” Johnny muttered, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. He stared down at the dark liquid in the cup in front of him. If only he could’ve gotten addicted to something like tea. Instead, he chose heroin. And despite the fact that he was getting clean, it seemed like heroin kept trying to choose him.

“Huh,” Will repeated, pulling Johnny back into reality. “What does that mean?”   
  
Johnny pondered it for a second, then shrugged. “Just huh.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Will drank his tea. Johnny looked at his. “You keep doing that,” Will said quietly. “Spacing out. It’s like you’re here, but not really. Not mentally. Where are you, Johnny?”

_ Where are you? _ That was a good question. Johnny took a deep breath, turning his gaze to look back up at Will. “I wish I knew.”


	17. S E V E N T E E N

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny had been hurt badly enough, for long enough, that he’d learned to hide everything behind a wall. And Will wasn’t sure if he’d ever figure out how to break that wall down.

They didn’t go back to sleep. Johnny said he didn’t want to, and Will felt bad about leaving him to sit awake. So they both stayed awake. They watched TV for a while – Will let Johnny choose the channel, but since it was nearly five in the morning at this point, most channels were stuck on infomercials, news, and those weird shows that were made specifically to be stuff for babies and young toddlers. Will wondered if Vivi watched those yet, or if she was too young for it to actually hold her attention. 

He spent most of his free time thinking about her. Was she sleeping right now? Had she woke Heather and Miguel up because she was hungry or needed a diaper change or was just done sleeping? Will wished, desperately, that things had gone differently. He wished that he had realized just how bad he’d gotten before it got as bad as it did. He wished he had worked on cleaning himself up before Vivi was born, he wished that he’d met Heather there at the hospital. Maybe Will wasn’t interested in Heather romantically anymore, but he still loved her platonically and he wanted to be there for her and for their child. He hadn’t done that. He’d lost his chance – but he had to keep reminding himself that he did have the chance to make it better. He was sober, he was  _ staying _ sober. He cleaned up, both himself and his house. He was in therapy now, too. He got a diagnosis, he was taking meds to try and help combat the depression. Above all, he was actually doing really well, considering all the circumstances. 

Thinking about that, though, made him wonder about Johnny. Johnny, who seemed to have come back home a completely different person than he was when he left. Johnny, who was actually half asleep right now, laying with his head in Will’s lap and pretending to be paying attention to whatever he put on TV. Johnny, who hardly ever cried, who sobbed in Will’s arms for almost a half hour. Johnny used to tell him everything. Whenever something happened, the first thing he used to do was show up at Will’s house or call him or at  _ least _ send a text. Johnny used to tell him  _ everything, _ from the small things like getting a new shirt to the big things like things Brad would do or say. What happened? What  _ happened _ to him in the city that changed things so badly?

He wanted to ask. He wanted to ask what happened to him, what made him change so much. Will assumed it was something to do with the girl he was in love with. Right? The girl, and the new friend. Johnny hadn’t actually talked about them much, but Will did remember him bringing them up. Maybe they’d hurt him, somehow. The thought made Will mad, and Will didn’t really get mad. Johnny went out somewhere to have fun, to finally do what he’s been dreaming of for all of his life, only for it to hurt him. Only for it to hurt him so badly that he came back home like  _ this. _

Johnny had bags under his eyes. He had never been the best sleeper, but it was never this bad. His hair was a little thinner. It was weird, because Johnny had always had the thickest, messy loose curls that Will had ever seen. Will used to tell him that, if he actually showered regularly and knew how to take care of his hair, he could have the most gorgeous hair in the world. Will loved his curls. Johnny used to make fun of him for it, but it was true. Now his hair was thinner, his hair laid flatter than it should. It was a little bit longer now, too, meaning he clearly hadn’t bothered with haircuts while he was gone. His eyes were still the same pretty shade of brown – the shade that Will would refer to as chocolate, the shade that Johnny would call poop – but they’d lost all their glow and shine. Johnny’s eyes used to light up at everything, whenever he found something funny or when he was going to do something he shouldn’t or when he was speaking to all of his punk followers. Johnny was nineteen (almost twenty, now), and he still had the eyes of a child. Well, not so much anymore. Will missed it. 

Will missed Johnny. He missed  _ his _ Johnny. The way Johnny was before. A total dumbass, in the nicest way possible. He missed the Johnny that wouldn’t really think before making decisions, even if half of those decisions had caused Will anxiety. He missed the Johnny that would trade his lunch for a cigarette. He missed the Johnny that would play fight with him, that would shut him up with a kiss, that would crash at Will’s house more often than he would be at his own. He missed when Johnny would turn to him with his problems, when he would trust Will with everything. When he was easier to see through, when his walls weren’t built up so high. Will used to be able to see through all of Johnny’s lies. Now, Johnny had been hurt badly enough, for long enough, that he’d learned to hide  _ everything  _ behind a wall. And Will wasn’t sure if he’d ever figure out how to break that wall down, and that absolutely broke his heart. 

He was asleep again, now, Will noticed. He checked the clock on the wall to see that it was now six. An hour had passed. Will just hoped that Johnny could get some decent sleep this time. He carefully slipped the remote out of Johnny’s hand and flipped through the TV channels, trying to occupy himself with something other than his thoughts while his friend slept. That’s what his therapist kept telling him, to spend more time in reality and less time caught up in his thoughts. He could do that. 


	18. E I G H T E E N

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Other than the not talking about his problems thing from Johnny, things had fallen into a sense of normalcy.

Johnny and Tunny had been back in Jingletown for a little over a month. Johnny stayed at Will’s place, for the most part – he stayed at his parents’ house for one night and had returned to Will’s the next morning with a suitcase of his belongings and a bruise across his cheek. “Brad,” Johnny had said in explanation. It was all they needed. Tunny and Christina slept at Tunny’s family’s house, but they came over to Will’s to hang out nearly every day. They gave Christina a tour of the area, but there wasn’t much to see. She still said that it was cute, that for people who liked small towns it was perfect. 

None of them had gotten a straight answer out of Johnny yet. Will still saw the worst of him, the waking up screaming and crying and shaking, but they didn’t really talk about it. He still made him tea after it, and Johnny had gotten to the point where he would actually drink about half of his cup. Tunny was waking up in cold sweats from nightmares, too, and Christina did the same things for him that Will did for Johnny – she’d hold him and whisper reassurances to him until he’d recovered from the moment. The difference there, however, was that Christina had a deeper understanding and Tunny was willing to talk to her about the nightmares after a little bit of coaxing. Johnny wouldn’t talk about his at all. 

Other than the not talking about his problems thing from Johnny, things had fallen into a sense of normalcy. They hung out together like normal, did things similar to the things that they would’ve done before (while also being mindful of Tunny’s leg). They took Christina to the skatepark one day to watch the new youths of Jingletown, and all three of them were surprised when she managed to get a hold of a skateboard and show off a few tricks she knew. Will and Johnny swore they saw Tunny fall even more in love with Christina that day, and proceeded to make fun of him for it every day since then. Will had earned his green chip, and Heather and Vivienne became a bit more of a steady part of their lives, too. Vivienne was almost five months old now, and Will was amazed at how far she’s come. He got to see her for a few hours every weekend, usually while meeting up with Heather somewhere. Sometimes Johnny came along, too. Once, Tunny and Christina came, too. Christina had ended up with baby fever after holding and cooing to Vivi for a few minutes, which freaked Tunny out (even if he wasn’t about to admit it).

In mid-October, Tunny and Christina made the decision to fly out to Christina’s hometown. It was now Tunny’s turn to meet the parents. He’d been through plenty of meet-the-parents dinners, but none of them were quite as serious as this one. Those had all been middle school and high school girlfriends that lasted about a week or two, a month if they were lucky – relationships that Tunny himself didn’t even see lasting. Christina was different. Tunny, who once cringed at the idea of getting married, wanted her to be his life partner (although he hadn’t said that one out loud). WIth that in mind, though, Tunny knew he needed to impress Christina’s parents. No matter how many times she told him “they already love you, I sent so many letters home about you,” his nerves didn’t seem to go away. Will had driven them out to the airport the night that they left, and Johnny had tagged along. 

They didn’t say goodbye, they said ‘see you soon.’ Tunny and Christina had already made the promise to be back after Thanksgiving, as the four of them had already made plans for an upgraded Friendsgiving that year. A Friendsgiving that would include them, obviously, but also Heather and Miguel and Vivienne. It would be interesting, a bigger group, more of a real family dynamic. There was something both exciting and nerve-wracking about it. 

Over the month that they’d been home though (and the month that Johnny had basically just moved in with him), there was one realization that hit Will like a truck – that little crush that he’d had on Johnny, the one that he’d tried repressing since middle school, was back. Will had crushed over him all through their school years, pretty much, but he’d never made a move on it. He was too busy denying himself, and then he ended up dating Heather both by chance and as an even bigger cover up. His sexuality was one of the things he worked out with his therapist, and now Will wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was gay. He supposed that he hadn’t actually come out yet, but that was a different story – he wasn’t  _ afraid _ to, he just didn’t feel the need to and the situation hadn’t arisen. That being said, he told his therapist about the crush on Johnny, but he was convinced that he was over it. He didn’t have a chance with Johnny, especially since Johnny had been in the city for so long and hadn’t been answering the phone, so Will had less time to sit and stall on the idea of a relationship with him. Now they lived together. Now they slept together every night. Now the crush was back, and Will wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself. 

The problem was that he couldn’t even talk to his therapist about it for help, really – all of the appointments were via phone call, and he could talk about his crush on Johnny with Johnny in the house. That, and even if Will was willing to tell Johnny that he liked him that way, now was absolutely  _ not _ the time. Johnny wasn’t in the right place, mentally, for a relationship. He wasn’t in the right place, mentally, to be given information like that. Will didn’t know much about what happened to him in the city, but he did know that there was at least a brief period of time that he liked a girl. In fact, it sounded like he was heads over heels for her. But he returned home without her, and refused to say a word about it. Will could only assume that meant that whatever it was that happened to Johnny had something to do with the girl. 

Will pushed it aside for now. At least, he tried to. Apparently he wasn’t as good at doing that as he thought he was. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Johnny asked him one night. 

They laid side by side in Will’s bed. Johnny had brought all of his clothes to Will’s house by now, yet he still chose to wear one of Will’s older sweatshirts or hoodies for pajamas. Not that Will complained, he looked cute in them. 

“Nothing important,” Will murmured. 

Johnny shrugged, “I’m curious anyway.”

Sometimes, he was still his normal self. Johnny was stubborn to a fault. It was almost impossible to win an argument against him, even when you were the one who was correct. If he had something in mind, he’d get it in the end, no matter how hard he had to work at it. It was annoying, but Will was glad to see that that hadn’t really changed. 

Will sighed. “Have you ever loved someone so much that it hurts? You know you can’t have them, at least not yet, but you still love them and it hurts.” It was a rhetorical question. Really, Will wasn’t even sure  _ why _ he phrased it as a question. But after some thought and consideration, Johnny answered it like it was meant to be asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess I have.”

There was a pause. Will rolled over onto his side, now face to face with Johnny. “What happened?” he asked, this time his voice nothing but a hushed whisper. 

Johnny stared at him. Then he looked away. “You have to promise not to tell Tunny. Or anyone else. Okay? You can’t tell anyone else.”

“Okay,” Will said immediately. “Okay, of course.”

And then Johnny told him everything. 


	19. N I N E T E E N

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You aren’t weak. I’ve never thought you were weak, and I especially don’t now.”
> 
> //tw: mention of suicide

“...I loved her. I really did. But I guess I loved the drugs more,” Johnny said. The entire time he’d been speaking, he refused to look at Will. He didn’t know how Will was going to react to any of it – there hadn’t been any interjections or anything, Will just laid there and listened. “So she left. I don’t blame her. I’m glad she did, really. I just hope she’s doing okay.

“But yeah. She left me. So I went to Jimmy. Me and Jimmy dated, I guess you can call it that. She left me, and then me and Jimmy started dating. And... we dated until I realized she was right. I was destroying myself. I’d basically lost everything at that point anyway. I lost my girl. I lost all my money, because… You know. I still had to pay, even if my dealer was my boyfriend. I lost my will to live. I only ever felt good if I was high off my ass. If I was sober, all I did was cry and throw up. But then I realized that’s not how I wanted to live. So I broke up with Jimmy. He… Jimmy, he killed himself. Shot himself right in the head. With the same gun he threatened to kill me with just the week before he did it to himself.

“It was on the news. That’s how I knew. They couldn’t identify the body because his face was in such bad shape, but I knew as soon as I saw the gun. And when I went in there, I knew as soon as I saw the clothes. He was wearing his favorite outfit. I told them who he was. Then I went back and sold all my shit and got a bus ticket. I was done in the city. Still am. I don’t ever want to go back, I don’t think.”

Will was still silent. Probably pissed, Johnny thought, and he didn’t blame him. He was probably going to kick him out. Probably was going to call him names, talk about how weak and pathetic he was. Johnny waited for it. It didn’t come. 

Instead, Will sat up and he pulled Johnny up with him. Will took one of Johnny’s arms and rolled up his sleeve, only stopping once the scabbed and scarred track marks were visible. He was gentle, almost like Johnny was fragile, like if he moved too quickly or too roughly it would break him. Will’s thumb brushed over the marks, then he finally spoke. “Oh, Johnny…” That was all he said. A hushed whisper, and nothing came after. 

_ Oh, Johnny  _ what? Oh Johnny, you’re pathetic? Oh Johnny, you’re so weak? Oh Johnny, you’re the biggest fuck up ever? He already knew all of that. Jimmy told him that. Brad told him that. He told himself that. It would hurt the worst, he thought, to hear it from someone like Will. But that didn’t come either. 

“You could’ve told me. I could’ve helped you sooner,” he said, his voice still quiet. “You didn’t have to suffer in silence.”

Johnny was still refusing eye contact. He could feel Will’s eyes on him, regardless, the dark blue eyes staring at him with such gentle intensity. Johnny didn’t know how someone could be so intense and so gentle at the same time, but that was Will. 

“Johnny,” Will whispered. “Look at me.”

So he did. Will looked like he was on the verge of tears. That hurt Johnny more than anything Will could’ve said to him. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to know,” he answered simply. Will just stared at him, so Johnny continued. “I didn’t… want you to think of me that way. I didn’t want you to think that I was– that I  _ am _ weak. But now you know I  _ am _ weak and I–”

He was cut off. At first, he didn’t quite know what was happening, but then he felt the familiar sensation of lips against his own. Will was kissing him.  _ Will _ was kissing him. 

“Sorry,” Will muttered as they pulled back, but Johnny could already recognize that there was absolutely no shame in his voice. “I just knew that you wouldn’t stop talking unless I interrupted you.” 

Johnny wasn’t sure he believed that one, either – it was probably true, but he felt like that wasn’t the  _ only _ reason. Regardless, he allowed the kiss to shut him up, and waited for Will to keep speaking. 

“You aren’t weak. I’ve never thought you were weak, and I especially don’t now. Johnny, you are one of the strongest people I have ever met. I’m proud of you. You’ve been home for a month. You’re a month clean. Almost two, really,” Will was saying. He took a deep breath. “I wish you’d told me before so that I could help you. But you’ve been doing it on your own… and that makes you even stronger.”

Johnny could feel himself teetering on the verge of tears now, too.  _ Don’t cry, _ he told himself.  _ Will has seen you cry way too much recently. _ They never really talked about it, but it was true. It was lessening over time, but he still had occasional nights where he was either up all night because he couldn’t quiet his mind enough to sleep or where he would wake up from nightmares and would damn near end up crying himself back to sleep. Will was there through all of it, and he never said anything. 

“I can help you now, though,” Will added, in lieu of Johnny’s absent reply. “I know you can handle it on your own, but it’s easier when you can get some help. I would know, I was only able to get better once I had a therapist to help. And I know you don’t like the idea of therapy, so you don’t have to see a therapist, but I–”

This time, Johnny cut Will off with a kiss. This one lingered for a few seconds longer than the last one. “You talk too much,” Johnny said simply, as his reasoning behind the kiss. Perhaps there was more behind his kiss, too, but it went unspoken. 

Once Will got over the initial shock, he grinned at him. Big and goofy and dorky, and it made Johnny smile back. “Touché,” he nodded. “We should– go to sleep. It’s late.”

Johnny laughed a bit. “Yeah… Yeah. Good night.”

That night, Johnny didn’t have any nightmares. 


	20. T W E N T Y

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You just think it would be funny if her first word was a swear.”
> 
> “I mean– yes, but that’s not my point.”

They didn’t talk about it. The fact that they’d kissed. Twice, in one night. It wasn’t like they hadn’t kissed before – they were each others’ first kiss forever ago, and the kissing each other on the cheek or forehead or hand was something that Heather used to complain about. But they had actually kissed on the lips without discussing beforehand (re, their first kiss), and without discussing afterwards. Johnny thought that maybe it had just been some weird fever dream, because it wasn’t like his dreams were particularly normal most of the time anyway, but he knew that wasn’t the case. 

It was the first of November, now. Things were better. It was a steady routine. Will and Johnny facetimed with Tunny and Christina when they could, and texted when they couldn’t. They’d gotten jobs, too – at the 7-Eleven, very fitting, and they got lucky enough to work the same shift. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and they usually worked an afternoon shift. It didn’t pay _much,_ but it was the first time that either of them had worked a day in their lives, so it was a good start. They still hadn’t talked about the kissing thing, but they _had_ gotten back into the habit of randomly planting kisses on each other’s cheeks. Will was about a week away from earning his purple chip, meaning that Heather was going to start allowing him to have the baby for the weekend. The baby, who was now rather good at crawling, which made Will nervous. Johnny made fun of him for it, until the time Vivienne had made a beeline towards the liquor store while they were all distracted and then he, Will, Heather and Miguel had to chase after her before she got lost or kidnapped. 

The first Friday of the month was Will’s first test at being an actual parent. “Miguel and I are going out for the weekend,” Heather told him. “You can keep Vivi, right?”

“Of course,” Will agreed immediately. It couldn’t be too much different from when they all hung out together for a few hours, there wasn’t anything to worry about… Right?

The first few hours were fine. Will and Johnny took Vivienne to the park and basically just watched her crawl around and pick at grass. They had to stop her from eating the grass and bugs a few times, but that was to be expected. She was a baby, after all. Once they took her back to the apartment, however, things started to prove to be a bit more challenging. 

Will had left Johnny on the living room floor with Vivienne while he attempted to put together and set up the things that Heather had sent him home with. A play pen, a travel crib, a bottle warmer, and some other things that Will couldn’t even name. Vivi attempted to get into _everything._ At first Johnny thought it was safe to just sit there and watch her, but that proved to not be the case after she made the decision to try and crawl behind the TV to chew on electrical cables.

Johnny had no clue how to talk to babies. They were little humans, but he knew that he wasn’t really supposed to talk to them like he did other people his age. He told her to stop, when she first headed for the TV, but she only obeyed for long enough to laugh at him and keep going. 

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” he told her, which she ignored, leaving him no choice but to get up and physically remove her from the TV stand. The good thing was that she didn’t really cry often. Even as Johnny picked her up, she just giggled and settled to play with Johnny’s hair instead. As soon as he put her back down, though, she went right for the wires again, therefore he was stuck having to hold her.

That was fine, until Will called for him to come help the playpen. “I can’t put her down, otherwise she’ll electrocute herself or some shit,” Johnny said, bouncing the baby on his hip as he met Will in the bedroom.

WIll gave him a look, “Don’t say shit in front of her, she’ll pick it up and then Heather will kill me.”

“You also just said it,” Johnny pointed out. “And she can’t even talk yet. She’ll be fine.” 

“You just think it would be funny if her first word was a swear,” Will huffed. 

“I mean– _yes,_ but that’s not my point,” Johnny said. “My point is that saying it once or twice isn’t going to do anything.”   
  
“Uh-huh,” Will nodded, pretending that he didn’t find the idea kind of funny too. “She can’t electrocute herself if you just lay her down on the bed, right? Plus, we’ll both be right here. I just can’t figure this damn thing out.”

Johnny laid Vivienne on the bed, made sure she didn’t seem like she was planning to try and crawl off, then turned back to Will. “Watch it, William, you said another no-no word.”

Will laughed, “Alright, well, I guess we know that Heather is going to kill me at some point during Vivi’s upbringing.” Johnny grinned, then finally attempted to help set up the playpen. 

They didn’t have any instructions, and it felt almost like pitching a tent – which neither one of them had ever done in their nineteen and twenty years of living. Johnny had gone camping once in his life, but he’d been six and his dad had taken care of all of the hard stuff, he’d existed just to eat smores and catch fireflies. Maybe they’d take Vivi camping sometime, when she was old enough to not try and eat bugs. 

Will wondered if the playpen was a test. What if Heather had sent it to see if Will was capable enough to set it up? And what did it mean if he _wasn’t_ capable of setting it up? He knew it didn’t mean that he’d lose Vivienne, which was good, but he still didn’t want to be looked down on for not being able to accomplish the simplest of tasks. Or maybe the playpen was supposed to be difficult to put together. Maybe that’s why Heather sent it, instead of something else. 

They had just about figured it out, were just about to click the last few things into place, when Vivienne did something that caught both of them off guard. Neither one of them were strangers to her babbling – she did it constantly, he was a very talkative child, although nobody knew what she was trying to say. But in that moment, Vivi had crawled to the edge of the bed and had her arms extended to Will, and uttered something that sounded _incredibly_ close to “dada.”

Both Will and Johnny gasped in shock, the playpen crumbling into a heap on the floor once more, but this time, they didn’t care. “Did she just speak to you?” Johnny asked, turning his head to look back towards Will. 

Will was already on the bed, letting Vivienne cuddle into his arms. “Say that again,” he cooed to her, already a master at baby talk. “Say dada.”

She didn’t. She babbled happily, but none of it was “dada.” Will didn’t care – she’d done it once, and seemed to even understand that _he_ was dada, and that was more than enough for him. They abandoned the playpen for the night and just made sure to keep removing her from the wires. 


	21. T W E N T Y - O N E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tunny felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment. Christina absolutely wasn’t making fun of him, her question was asked in genuine curiosity, he was just now realizing how stupid of a worry it was.

Never in his life did Tunny expect to deal with the pressure of someone wanting him to be a father. Ever since they’d gotten home and seen Will and Heather’s baby, it seemed like that demand was thrown at him from more people than he expected. 

Christina didn’t demand it, he supposed. But he  _ did _ see the look in her eyes when she was holding Vivienne – the way her eyes lit up, the way she absolutely could’ve sat there and held that baby for hours on end. He didn’t miss the serious undertones when she looked up at him and said, “I want one!” Everyone had laughed it off, because it had primarily been a joke, but Tunny sat and stewed over it for the rest of the day. 

A baby. Christina wanted a baby. That meant she wanted  _ him _ to be the  _ father _ of her baby. Tunny wasn’t even used to being an “uncle” (Will insisted on referring to him as Uncle Tunny when Vivi was around). Children freaked him out, kinda. He was the only one who hadn’t held Vivienne. There was something about the idea of them being so small and fragile that was scary. 

Christina’s parents, however, seemed to demand it in the least demanding way possible. Things like “ _ when _ you have a baby,” and “ _ when _ we’re grandparents.” They were nice people – Tunny had been nervous about meeting them, but they made him feel more at home in a foreign area than his own parents did in the place he grew up. Her mother was very sweet and kind, although kind of soft spoken. Her father, however, was the textbook definition of a “dad joke,” he was loud and funny and made for some very funny moments that he’d never gotten from either of his own parents. They were just very adamant about having at least one grandchild, and since Christina was their only child it was up to her and whoever her partner would be. And her partner just so happened to be Tunny. 

“Have you ever thought about children?” Christina asked him one night. Her parents were already asleep, because they were the type of people that went to bed early and woke up early. She and Tunny were sitting on the back deck of the farmhouse, looking out towards the fields. While Tunny lived in a small town in the middle of nowhere, Christina lived in a big town in the middle of nowhere. It was different, but just similar enough. Tunny could see himself enjoying living somewhere like this. 

“Uh– No. Not really. Not until recently, at least,” he answered. 

She held one of his hands in hers, absently playing with his fingers. That was just her thing, fidgeting when they held hands. Tunny thought it was cute, but he’d never comment on it because she didn’t even realize that she was doing it. “Just know there’s no pressure. Okay?” she told him. “I know my parents talk about it a lot, but it’s kinda one of their tests. They’d do that even when I had partners in high school. They want me to be married before I even consider children, and they only want me to have children if it would fit the lifestyle of my partner and I. If you don’t think you want kids, for whatever reason, we won’t have them.”

Tunny shrugged. “Don’t you want kids?”

Christina gave his hand a squeeze, “I do like the idea of having children, but not for a while and only if you’d be comfortable with them.”

“I don’t know how I feel. Vivi is kinda…”

“She’s wild,” Christina laughed. “She’s so cute, but I’m terrified for Will and Heather for when Vivi starts walking. She’s going to get into everything.”

That was just it. “What if she hurts herself or something?” Tunny mumbled. 

“That’s just a part of childhood, love,” she assured him. “How many times did you and your friends hurt yourselves as kids? Quite a bit, probably. At least, it was a lot in my case. It’s just normal. She’ll get hurt, she’ll probably cry, she’ll get a bandaid or whatever it is that she needs, and then everything will be okay. Is that what you’re worried about?”

Tunny felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment. Christina absolutely wasn’t making fun of him, her question was asked in genuine curiosity, he was just now realizing how stupid of a worry it was. “It’s just– Babies are so… fragile.”

She was smiling at him. “You’re so sweet. You know that? Sweetest man I’ve ever met,” she patted his hand. “Babies  _ are _ fragile. But it’s not as scary as we think. You should try holding Vivi sometime, I promise it’s not as scary as you’d imagined it.”

Tunny doubted that. Vivienne was tiny. A little baby, a bit of a chubby baby, but still tiny. She was cute – the same pale skin and blue eyes as both of her parents, her hair came in curly like Heather’s (although Heather straightened hers) and was a darker shade of color like Will’s. Tunny couldn’t tell which parent she looked more like in facial feathers, but she definitely had Will’s smile. She was absolutely adorable, but that almost made her even scarier. She was so cute and such a happy baby that Tunny didn’t want to risk holding her and hurting her or upsetting her or something – even if she had made grabby hands at him quite a few times, and would probably enjoy sitting on the knee of his good leg. 

Christina leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry too much about it. We don’t even need to seriously discuss having kids for a few more years.”

He nodded. It was a little bit better knowing that Christina and her family weren’t completely counting on him to be a father, but he still knew that there was a want and desire there from all of them. Tunny didn’t feel pressured anymore, he supposed, but he did know that when they would head back to Jingletown for Friendsgiving next week, he was going to give an attempt at actually holding Vivienne. 


	22. T W E N T Y - T W O

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, like, are you guys dating now, or...?” Miguel asked. Suddenly, all eyes in the room were on Will and Johnny.

Will found himself unusually nervous for Friendsgiving this year. Probably because, for all the years leading up to now, it wasn’t taken too seriously. Usually, it was just him and Tunny and Johnny, and they would gather at either his or Tunny’s house. If it was his house, they’d get a bigger haul than usual from the 7-Eleven, but otherwise everything would be the same. If it was at Tunny’s house, sometimes they’d get a little fancy (in a _very_ loose sense of the word) and reheat some of the Clarke family’s Thanksgiving leftovers and put on a Christmas movie – because Hallmark always started showing Christmas movies as soon as the month of November started. 

This year, however, was a little different. First off, they were going to have the whole gang – Will and his two friends, but also Christina, Heather, Miguel, and Vivienne. Second, they were holding it at Heather and Miguel’s new house, because it was bigger than Will’s apartment and because everyone else lived with their parents. And third, they were actually cooking. Actual food, not just leftovers or stuff they picked up from 7-Eleven – real food. Heather sent out a group text saying that she and Miguel could take care of the main dishes, and just asked for Tunny and Christina to bring sides and for Will and Johnny to bring desserts.

Tunny was in luck, because he was at least decent at cooking and Christina was an amazing chef. Will and Johnny, however, were screwed. 

“The only things I know how to make are tacos, grilled cheese, and ramen,” Johnny said, staring down the word ‘desserts’ in the text message. “Do you think we could just, like, pick up pies from a store and put them in a different container and call it a day?”  
  
Will considered it for a moment before shaking his head. “No. Heather will know. I’m pretty sure I tried doing that at one point,” he muttered. “We’re just gonna have to… try our best, I guess.”

They did end up _trying their best_ and, surprisingly enough, came up with something edible. They found recipes and followed them (more like Will followed them and Johnny pretended to) and ended up with a cake, a pan of brownies, and a pie that wasn’t exactly good _looking_ but it would end up tasting pretty good. 

Overall, the food that they had for their get together was good. Christina was easily the best cook of them all, so her sides went pretty quickly, but everything had turned out at least decent. Even Vivienne sat at the table (in her high chair, of course) and ate with them. The only thing that really felt odd was conversation and being around so many people – and maybe that was just Will, because it did feel kind of awkward to sit there and hold a conversation with the boyfriend of his ex-girlfriend. 

Up until then, Will hadn’t actually held a conversation with Miguel. They talked in passing, and they would exchange brief pleasantries whenever Will was either picking up or dropping off Vivienne, but that was about it. At their Friendsgiving dinner, however, Will was sandwiched between Johnny and Miguel, so conversation with him was just a thing that was bound to happen – especially since, at the very moment, Johnny was deep in a conversation with Tunny and Christina, who sat to his other side, and Heather was trying to help Vivienne eat a bite of ham. That left Will and Miguel. 

“Heather said you’re working at the 7-Eleven,” Miguel said, as a conversation starter. 

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Me and Johnny both do. It’s nice that we have the same shift. Makes it a little more bearable, I guess,” Will nodded, fiddling with his fork. “And you– you’re in a band?”  
  
Miguel nodded. “Yeah. I’m the guitarist. And sometimes the drummer.”   
  
“You’re both?”   
  
“Sometimes.”

Will just nodded slowly. Miguel was a nice guy, but he wasn’t exactly the brightest. Heather definitely went off of looks or lifestyle or something when she picked him – not that there was anything wrong with that. It was just… something.

The conversation died off a bit, and the dining room fell quiet (aside from Vivienne’s babbling) for a few minutes. And then the silence was broken.

“So, like, are you guys dating now, or…?” Miguel asked. Suddenly, all eyes in the room were on Will and Johnny. Then the room _really_ fell silent – even baby Vivi seemed to understand, and stopped her babbling and looked their way with her big blue eyes, too.

Will was stuck into a shocked silence. After a few beats of silence from everyone else, and the deep stares, Johnny spoke up. “Huh?”

Miguel shrugged, “I just thought. Y’all live together, and work the same shifts. And, like, sometimes you kiss each other too. Y’know?”

That seemed to render Johnny speechless, too. Perhaps not speechless, because Will couldn’t remember a single time in Johnny’s life that he’d ever been speechless. Even when he came home from the city, mind fucked up beyond recognition, he always had something to say about everything even if it was vague and didn’t make much sense. So perhaps he wasn’t speechless, but it did toss him into his own bout of silence. 

Tunny seemed to pick up on it. “I mean,” he started, after clearing his throat, gaining all the attention towards himself now. “They’ve always been like that. I’ve known ‘em my entire life and everyone else has always thought they were either brothers or dating or something, y’know? ‘Cause they were never seen apart. That stuff’s not really abnormal.” He seemed to pause, sending a glance their way again, and then shrugged. Almost as if he was opening it up to them again, if they wanted to correct him. 

They didn’t. Vivi went back to babbling, pointing across the table to Christina. Everyone was mostly done eating by now, so she was allowed out of her high chair and was now happily sat in Christina’s lap as normal conversation slowly picked back up. 

  
  


———

“Are we?” Johnny asked, as they laid in bed that night. They’d slowly transitioned from simply sharing a bed to actually cuddling, which all started from Johnny’s nightmares but then just became a habit even as the nightmares became few and further between. 

Johnny was a bit tipsy – Heather had brought out wine after they put Vivienne to bed. Will hadn’t touched it, but he encouraged everyone else to drink without him. Being the only completely sober one, for once, had been interesting. Not that he was complaining. He actually hadn’t even had a desire to drink, which he was afraid of, so it proved to be easier than he’d worried. 

“Are we what?” Will asked back, voice slightly muffled by Johnny’s hair. 

“Dating.” 

Will hadn’t known what he expected, but it wasn’t that. “Uh…” he mumbled. “I don’t know. I mean, that isn’t just up to me.”

Johnny grumbled a bit, then untangled himself from Will enough to lean back and look up at him. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said. “But if it was. If it was all up to you. Would we be dating?”

Will sputtered a bit, unable to verbally offer an actual response. His answer would be yes, of course – the crush had been rekindled, and somehow that fire was burning even brighter now than it ever had in the past. Johnny seemed to get bored of waiting for an actual response from him, so he continued on. 

“Because if it was up to _me,”_ he was saying, “I think we would be.”

“You think?” Will managed to say, without stumbling over his words too much. He sighed and shook his head, trying not to let hope get the best of him – that had only ever hurt him thus far. “You’re also tipsy, Johnny. I think you should go to bed and– if you’re _serious_ , then.. we can talk in the morning.”

“It’s technically morning now, William. Plus, the saying. You know the saying. Drunk words are sober thoughts. This is as real and serious as you’ll ever get me,” Johnny murmured, waving his hand dismissively before cuddling closer again and burying his face back into the fabric of Will’s sleep shirt. “I didn’t think I wanted to date ever again. Not after the girl. _Especially_ not after Jimmy. But you’re different.”

The room was silent for a while. Will didn’t know how much time had passed, how much time he sat there and thought about what Johnny had said. “Different,” he repeated, after a long while. Johnny didn’t respond. Johnny’s breathing had evened out, and he’d fallen asleep. 

Will just hoped he hadn’t missed his chance while he had it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yayaya i’m gay


	23. T W E N T Y - T H R E E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tunny responded. “Dude, c’mon. Will is an open fuckin’ book, even if he likes to try and pretend he’s not. He’s an open book, and you’re the most oblivious person on the face of the Earth.”

“I thought you guys worked the same shift,” Tunny said.

“We do,” Johnny nodded. “But I took the day off. Hangover.”   
  
“Right.” 

Johnny sure as hell didn’t  _ seem _ hungover. He’d come over to Tunny’s house the second Will left for work. Will hadn’t brought up their brief conversation from the previous night – or, really, from a few hours ago, considering they’d gotten home rather late. Johnny hadn’t brought it up either, but he also felt like he shouldn’t have to. He said his part, he said what he needed to say. Will just usually took more time to think things over, so Johnny was going to give him that time. The problem with that was that now, now that Johnny’s feelings were out in the open and hadn’t been responded to, he felt like he was losing his mind – but he was trying to do so in the most quiet way possible.

He was lucky that both of Tunny’s parents were out. Where? He didn’t know. Tunny and Christina didn’t seem to know either. Not like that was abnormal. He was lucky that, when he showed up on the Clarke’s doorstep and had run the doorbell repeatedly until the door was thrown open, Tunny and Christina had just been hanging out and watching TV and were okay with having a surprise visit. A surprise visit from Johnny, who told them he needed to tell them something, and then seemed to avoid telling them that something. 

Christina had clicked off the TV, the three of them sitting in the living room. She and Tunny were on the couch, and Johnny had sprawled himself out on one of the recliners.  _ Still a child, _ Tunny thought. “Do you want some Advil?” Christina offered, in response to the headache. 

Tunny had never seen Johnny say  _ no _ to something so quickly. Back in high school, it sometimes seemed like Johnny all but lived off of Advil and Tylenol – probably because he kept staying up all night and only having an energy drink and a cigarette for lunch, that was bound to give him headaches. He didn’t do that anymore obviously, but it was still weird to see him turn it down, and so  _ quickly _ at that. He shrugged it off. “Are you gonna tell us the thing, then?” he asked instead. “I love you and your company, you know that, but this is obviously something important if you came over here specifically to tell us and then, y’know, won’t tell us.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, so,” Johnny said, sitting up straight. Well, semi-straight – that kid did not know how to properly sit in a chair. “I got a little drunker than I intended to last night. Not really  _ drunk _ , I guess, ‘cause I remember everything, but you catch the drift. And y’know how Miguel asked if me and Will were dating? Well, we aren’t. But, y’know, I was thinkin’ about it, and–”

“Oh my god,” Tunny interrupted. “You like him, don’t you? I fuckin’ called it. I fuckin’  _ called _ it, man! Chris, we’re going to have to go visit Theo later because he owes me five bucks.”

Johnny blinked. “You and fuckin’  _ Theo _ placed a bet on who I liked?”

Christina tried not to laugh, because she knew that Johnny’s feelings were very valid, but she couldn’t stop it anyway. Even if she didn’t know Johnny or Will very well, she still loved sitting back and watching the dynamic between all of them. This was one of those moments. 

“We did, yeah, clear back in middle school,” Tunny said, waving his hand like it wasn’t a big deal. “Anyway, I think pretty much everyone already knows that. Except for Theo, for some reason. So you’re dating now?”

“I– No? I just kinda told him that I’d be okay with dating him. And he didn’t respond so I fell asleep,” Johnny answered. “And we haven’t talked about it at all today, so…”

“Maybe you should,” Christina suggested. “If you like him, and you  _ told _ him that, it should really be brought back up. Even if it’s a thing where he doesn’t like you the same way, you guys should at least discuss that.”

Tunny nodded, then added on, “But I think we all know it won’t go that way.”

Johnny rolled his eyes, flopping back against the chair again. “You don’t know that,” he said. 

“Uh, actually, I do,” Tunny responded. “Dude, c’mon. Will is an open fuckin’ book, even if he likes to try and pretend he’s not. He’s an open book, and you’re the most oblivious person on the face of the Earth.”

When Johnny just stared back at them, Christina was the one to practically spell it out for him. “I mean, it is kinda obvious that Will is in love with you. If Tun hadn’t told me about you beforehand, I definitely would’ve thought you guys were dating after the first few times we hung out.”

“And he  _ has _ been in love with you since, you guessed it,  _ middle school,”  _ Tunny added. 

Johnny had never admitted to being oblivious. Tunny and Will had made fun of him for it for the entire time he’s known them, yet he’s never admitted it. He still wouldn’t, because he was stubborn like that, but if he was ever going to – this would’ve been the moment. Instead, he nodded. “So you’re saying that I should go ahead and bring it up when he gets off work?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Tunny sighed dramatically, like it was a painful process. “And then text me as soon as you guys make it official, because then Theo owes me ten dollars and it’ll be easier to get the whole deal at once.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aka: tunny is tired of his friends’ bullshit


	24. T W E N T Y - F O U R

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth was that Johnny didn’t really know if he was ready or not. There was still damage from his previous relationships, even if he wasn’t fully willing to admit it. But he was right, Will was different.

Johnny hung out with Tunny and Christina until it was about time for Will’s shift to end. They didn’t do much, really – just sat around and talked or made fun of TV and stuff. The normal stuff. Tunny poked fun at Johnny for being oblivious a bit more than usual, to which Johnny would respond with throwing a pillow at him. 

He got back to the apartment just minutes before Will pulled into the driveway. If you asked him, he wouldn’t admit it, but Johnny had been watching the parking lot from the window in the kitchen. Maybe he was a little nervous for this conversation. Tunny told him that he shouldn’t be, that Will absolutely liked him back. Even Christina agreed. Maybe  _ that _ wasn’t what he was worried about, though. Maybe he was worried about himself.

Johnny had only ever been in two relationships in his entire life. Both of those had two common themes that lead to their ultimate demises, the two most painful things Johnny had ever dealt with – and those two things were himself and drugs. The drugs wouldn’t be an issue here, because even if Johnny wanted to relapse or wanted to try getting back into drugs, he wouldn’t know where to get them around here (but the even better thing was that he didn’t want to get back into them, hence why he was afraid to even take an Advil when Christina offered it to him). But he, himself, was still a factor. The drugs had been dependent on Johnny’s choices, anyway, which meant that he wasn’t the best at making choices – which he kind of already knew, but was too stubborn to admit. 

“Hey,” Will greeted, as he stepped in through the front door. He paused, looking Johnny up and down briefly. “Uh, are you okay?”

Maybe Johnny had let his thoughts freak him out a bit. He was still standing next to the window, which probably seemed weird or creepy, but Will hadn’t commented specifically on that so Johnny chose to ignore it. “Yeah,” he answered simply. “How was work?”

Will shrugged, “Y’know, 7-Eleven. There was almost a fight, that was new.”

“Almost?” Johnny repeated.

“Someone pulled the people apart before a punch could be thrown,” he explained, sitting down at the kitchen island. “How was your day? What did you do?”

It was Johnny’s turn to shrug, dropping himself in a stool opposite of Will’s. “Went over to Tunny’s,” he said. 

They talked about that briefly – Will asked how Tunny and Christina were and what they did while they hung out, and Johnny answered that they were good and that they just hung out and did the normal stuff. He knew that he was supposed to be bringing up their conversation from last night, but why do that when they could just have a normal conversation? But then that normal conversation died off, which was usually kinda normal. They could sit together in comfortable silence for a long time. And even then, Will didn’t seem to mind it. It was Johnny who felt weird, and he felt as if that was fair.

So Johnny broke the silence. “So, y’know how last night you said we could talk in the morning? It’s past morning now.”

Will took a deep breath, almost as if preparing himself, before nodding. “Right. Yeah. What did you mean when you said that I was different?” 

“I don’t know. I guess you just are,” Johnny answered. Will didn’t have a response, so after a few seconds, Johnny continued on. “You’re different from the girl. You’re  _ way _ different from Jimmy. I told myself that, after all that shit, I wouldn’t date anyone ever again, because it wasn’t worth it. But you’re different. You’re different, and I’m… not.”

“Johnny…”

“I know it was kinda my fault that those relationships fell apart. Especially with the girl, y’know? That was all my fault. And, really, with Jimmy too. It was my fault it got as bad as it did. So, like, if you’re afraid of that–”

Will leaned across the counter and cut Johnny off with a kiss, much like he did the first night Johnny told him about his time in the city. It lingered for a bit, though, before Will finally sat back down in his stool. “Okay,” he started. “First off, none of that was your fault. Okay? It might feel like you were the common denominator, but that’s not it. You were heavy on drugs. You couldn’t make sound decisions. And you said that you tried to get clean many different times, but Jimmy wouldn’t let you, yeah? But you  _ tried, _ and that’s all that matters to me. Okay?”

Johnny swallowed the little lump in his throat, then nodded his head. And then Will kept talking.

“Second off, the answer to your question is yeah. If it were fully up to me, yeah, we’d be dating,” he nodded. “But that’s– that’s only if you want to, only if you’re ready.”

The truth was that Johnny didn’t really know if he  _ was _ ready or not. There was still damage from his previous relationships, even if he wasn’t fully willing to admit it. But he was right, Will  _ was _ different – Will was observant and understanding and patient. Almost like his girl had been, but different. Will understood Johnny in ways that no one else ever had, and Johnny was convinced that it was beyond the fact that Will had known Johnny longer than anyone else. But regardless, regardless of the fact that he didn’t know whether he was ready or not, he told Will that he was. And then he kissed him. And Will kissed back. And it felt natural. The difference with Will was that, even though they were now technically dating, Johnny didn’t expect much to change. 

“Are we gonna tell anyone?” Will asked him, later on that night. They’d moved to the couch, because it was more comfortable – and because it was easier to cuddle than in the kitchen.    
  
“Oh. Yeah, about that,” Johnny mumbled. “Uh, I might’ve brought that up with Tunny earlier today. He kinda already knows. He said he knew it back in middle school. He and Theo made a fuckin’ bet over whether they thought we’d end up dating or not.”   
  
Will raised his eyebrows, then scoffed. “Of course they did. I shouldn’t be surprised,” he said. “Have you told him that we made it official yet?”   
  
“Mm, no,” Johnny answered. He reached across Will to grab one of their phones off of the end table – it didn’t matter which one. He ended up picking up Will’s, texting Tunny from it. 

_ You can go get your ten dollars now, _ was what he texted. Will laughed at it, and they both laughed when Tunny sent a voice memo saying  _ “Thank you, Jesus!” _


	25. T W E N T Y - F I V E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone had grown. As people, as a family.

_ A year later. Somewhere new.  _

  
  


They all moved away. They got out of Jingletown, all of them, all together, and this time with real plans. 

Will and Johnny got a new apartment together. Tunny and Christina lived together, too, in the same complex. Heather and Miguel and Vivienne got a cute little house about five minutes away. They weren’t in the city, but they weren’t in the middle of nowhere anymore, either. They were somewhere in the middle, and it was perfect for all of them. 

Since leaving Jingletown, Johnny, Tunny and Will formed a band of their own. Johnny on guitar (which he’d saved up the money from working at 7-Eleven for), Will on his bass that he hadn’t really touched in too long, and Tunny on drums. That’s what made them their money now, through playing gigs. Miguel was still in his band, too, and sometimes they’d find themselves opening for each other. Christina got herself a job at the local hospital, because saving lives and helping people was her passion. Heather stayed home, spending her time as a stay-at-home mom. 

Vivienne was a year and a half old now, and was such a handful. She was spending weekends with Will and Johnny, and the week with Heather and Miguel. She was better at speaking by now. She regularly called Will ‘daddy,’ which made his heart swell, and she referred to Miguel as ‘dada.’ It started out as a joke, but she religiously called Johnny ‘papa Johnny,’ and he wouldn’t admit it but that tugged at his heartstrings too. Christina and Tunny were ‘auntie Chris’ and ‘uncle Tun.’ 

Everyone had grown. As people, as a family. They had dinners together at least once a week, and things fell into a normal routine. None of them had ever been happier. 

Tunny had been working on planning a proposal. Johnny teased him about how he was once adamant about never getting married, about how all it took was a military nurse to change that, but he and Will were both huge help with planning the proposal. They helped him pick out a ring, they helped him come up with lists of ideas on how he could do it. It was mostly Will, really – it didn’t take too long into his and Johnny’s relationship for them to find out that Will was the hopeless romantic out of the two of them. 

It was the end of one story, but the beginning of another. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woaaah short chapter but
> 
> this is the end i hope u enjoyed thank u for reading 😌


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